Bleaching moonlight illuminated vaguely through the dense leaves, turning patches of tree-trunk silver. Fronds from the underbrush tickled silently against the ethereal fabric of my battle-garb as I stalked Southeast.
Through the mask, I tilted my nose to the air and followed the faint, familiar scents I'd tracked through town on my outings with Allie and Cat. I'd dedicated the mixed-scent of high-octane fuel and vampire-mint to memory, able to follow the stink of it without directly following in the exposed trail of it on the road.
As the scent of vampire-mint grew stronger, my heartbeat thrashed against my ribs. Placing a shaking hand over my chest, I imbued a spell.
[Silentium]
Over my breast, but beneath my dress, the little glyph crisped hotly on my skin. Blood continued to flow in my veins and pulse behind my ears, but the heavy beating of my heart within my chest and the scrape of air to and from my lungs, had quieted to the ears of observers.
Another glyph already burned frigidly at the hollow in the base of my throat and the two spells pulsed in unison as they unraveled little spools of magic from my reserve. I flared my nose again, breathing in the clear night-air unhindered by my own scent.
Between the darkness, my track was quiet and smooth. Each pace measured, each footfall delicate, and yet I moved fluidly, quickly. Until finally, an unnatural golden light peeked from beyond the tree trunks. This was far from my first visit and I'd selected a safe place to scope from... yet I still felt exposed like an open wound. Every shift of the cool night-air stung my nerves.
They were snooping around your house earlier this month, I reminded myself, You have every right to return the favor.
As if the morality of my forays were the only thing pulsing fear through my veins. I was hopeful that, tonight, there might actually be chatter.
My first visit had come upon an empty house. The second had yielded little to no chatter as each individual was absorbed in hobbies of their own. It had been hours of listening to the whir of Anne's sewing machine. The monotony eased just a little when Mason had begun tinkering on the piano that night...
Tonight, I hoped, would be different, given the inquisition in the pizza parlor earlier.
Behind my ear, I pressed two fingers, imbued the sense-augmentation charm and braced myself for the momentary sensory overload. After the wave, I attuned my focus to the house just barely visible by its light in the distance. When their voices cut loudly and clearly across the distance, I started, knocking my elbow into the tree-trunk I'd crouched beside.
Even outside of human observation they speak normally?
In fact, there was absolutely no need for any adjustment of position or careful maneuvering to get closer to the lair.
Vampires could speak in low, quick tones faster and softer than the human ear could detect. It was convenient, subtle, and sounded like a breath to the un-enhanced ear; why speak normally if you could speak more efficiently?
"You need to approach this situation with more caution."
This was an unfamiliar, syrupy cadence; perhaps the fake-mother of the bunch.
"Claire's right, she's unwell," Leo interrupted, "Good at hiding it most of the time, but still a wounded animal. "
"All the more reason why we should be engaging with her," Mason growled.
"I'm not saying we don't help her," Leo sighed.
"Of course not, that's not what we're saying," the female pleaded in a fairly realistic interpretation of melancholic horror, "I'm just worried about you, Mason. You're investing more into this than I thought you were and, while I've always wanted you to find someone, I could never have imagined that the circumstances would be so complex."
"Complex is a word for it," Anne growled, "She was interrogating us just as much as we were interrogating her. She's a hunter. Clear as day."
It didn't particularly matter whether the ticks approved of me or not, but clearly I wasn't being as subtle as I'd hoped.
"I still need to meet her, properly, Mason," Kira pouted lightly, the petulant chime of her voice an antithesis to the somber tones of the others. "-and before you say it, class doesn't count."
"You will tomorrow," Mason let out a huff of irritation.
"We need to think of what this could mean for our family," Anne argued and I could picture her crossing her arms with self-righteous aggravation, "Can't you just pass this one up? Did you really have to pick a girl who comes with so much... baggage?"
"Baggage? You're one to talk - "
"Mason," the thick, feminine voice sharpened like spiced honey.
"Apologies, Anne."
The blond leech sniffed in response.
"You can be kinder, too, Anne."
"Paul ought to be home soon," the mildly Southern drawl sparked surprise within me; it was the first time that I'd never heard Samuel speak, "He needs to be privy to the full discussion."
"I'll fill him in quickly - "
"With your biased answers," Anne clipped.
Mason's teeth snapped together at that.
"We're all biased, Anne," Claire reminded her gently, "He'll be quick to pick up once he has arrived."
"With all this talk of helping the girl, we're avoiding the more pressing question," Samuel spoke again, still even, "Is it possible that the missing and murdered hikers are of her doing? Both Paul and Mason have met their fair share of overeager hunters in the past. She seems unstable to me."
"She's not the killer," Mason growled, "I'm good at reading people, even without my gift; I can tell."
"But how can you be sure? She's shown more than proficiency in many talents. She's significantly more observant than most and she's keeping other secrets."
"She sounds like us," the mother noted thoughtfully.
My upper lip curled.
"Perhaps Sara and the masked woman you met in the woods are one in the same," Kira suggested and I perked up at the connection, "Perhaps she's a supernatural being we've never encountered before. One that can turn on and off certain abilities."
"If we assume they're the same person," Samuel said hesitantly, "She's an even more likely suspect. The masked woman had no scent and there was no scent at any of the crime scenes in the mountains."
"Then she's our number one suspect," Anne hissed.
The blonde shifted on the spot in agitation, creaking the floorboards beneath her as if about to storm from the house to accuse me.
"The crime scenes weren't devoid of scent," Leo piped up, "There was a rotten death-smell."
"She's certainly not our number one suspect," Mason rebutted a little more loudly than necessary, "She's never had a trace of that scent on her and the deaths started long before her arrival."
"The deaths started early over summer break when school wasn't in session and there was no accounting for her whereabouts," Anne scoffed, "And death scent can obviously be caused by dead bodies. Let's not be stupid."
"The scenes were too fresh to be giving off a smell like that," Leo argued.
A rotten scent? I wondered.
That could indicate sulfur residue; evidence of a demon. The severe state of Margret's corpse wasn't demon induced, however. Demon possessions caused wounds coincident with drug use and reckless activity. Margret had been clearly mauled by something.
"Let's not forget the creature that caused the both of you to run," Samuel murmured, narrowing his eyes, "She and that creature may be of separate factions... or perhaps she was pretending not to know what it was."
"Did you get a whiff of that thing?" Leo probed.
"No," Mason rasped, a note of horror in his voice, "I ran. The way it breathed, the way it moved, was wholly unnatural. That's a more likely culprit than Sara."
"You didn't hear what it wanted?" Kira wondered.
"It was curious... but the thoughts were scattered and difficult to decipher. There might've been pain, but I didn't hear anything like hunger at the time."
"It didn't think in words or images?" Samuel asked.
A wide grin spread across my cheeks at the absolute confirmation of Mason's ability.
"There were words but they overlapped each other," Mason recalled, "Some clearly weren't English, but I hadn't listened for long enough to recognize it."
"The Lawatscoh have their own language," Claire supplied, "Maybe it was one of them?"
I raised my eyebrows at that.
"Not even close," Mason started, speaking slowly to gather his thoughts, "This thing seemed to... lack a sense of self."
"It's been a while since we've encountered any of the tribe," Claire said hesitantly, "Maybe they'd know more than we do."
Mason sighed, frustrated, "They're intent on keeping to the agreement we made nearly a century back. Ever since that brief... welcome, since we've returned they want nothing to do with us. Though I wouldn't be surprised if they were growing suspicious of us amid all these disappearances and deaths."
Agreement? I wondered.
"Moreover, we've seen no evidence that the Lawatscoh can affect their scent," Samuel reminded the group with a voice lower and quicker than the others. He then hesitated on a thought. His tone was tense when he spoke, "Witches can hide or change their scent."
"They can," Mason seconded with an odd smugness.
"Witches? Really?" Leo chuckled dryly, "I'm not convinced that woman was telling you the truth."
"No, I saw them with my own eyes while I was in her militia," doubt colored Samuel's voice, "These were people with no scent."
Militia, eh? I wrinkled my nose. Any vampire who survived past being created for a militia was a significant threat.
"You mentioned before that your memories of them are hazy," Leo pointed out doubtfully, "Perhaps it was another of our kind with a gift instead."
Haziness? I shook my head at that.
No, witches were more likely, even if it seemed like shoddy spell casting to me. Vampires were slightly rarer than witches but abled vampires even more exponentially so.
"It's an odd memory," Mason mused, and I narrowed my eyes again, "The wind in your mind's eye is blustery about your hiding place atop the complex that day. That could be why their scent doesn't reach you, but it doesn't explain why their faces keep shifting. Almost as if they're blurry..."
A bitter smile wreathed my lips as I began to draw closer through the brush, enticed. I'd need to lay eyes on them to see exactly how Mason was employing his ability.
"I ought to remember it plainly," Samuel said, voice rough with frustration. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help..."
"It's alright," Mason assured him, "Your altered memories seem to match what little Paul and I understand about witches. How they hide themselves."
Leaf rot and needles slid beneath my feet, spongy and damp and silent.
"It's alright, Sammy," Kira whispered.
I heard the gentle swish of her hand over his shoulder.
As the golden light resolved, framed through the fanned fronds of evergreen trees, I drew to a complete and stunned halt. I'd never gotten this close on previous visits.
The house was enormous, ostentatious with windows wide and glassy. It was a geometric thing, all edges and shapes, with very few curves to speak of. Thick curtains visibly framed the windows, but they were pulled all the way back to the far edges. Within, like a little dollhouse set, were six figures arranged around a grand, mahogany dining table.
"So you really think that Sara is the masked lady?" Leo chuckled skeptically. "That she's a witch?"
I snapped back to focus, watching him rub the scruff along his jaw in amusement and grin at Mason with incredulously raised eyebrows.
"Magic could explain her resistance to your powers," Claire suggested.
"Mine too," Kira murmured, then rested a hand on Samuel's shoulder, "Have you had a chance to try yours?"
"No," he visibly flexed his jaw, "It's difficult to be around her."
Cold froze over my brain and my fingers seized.
Three abled vampires in a coven of seven? Those were impressive odds. Frightening. Were they purposefully gathering together? Like the Theous?
A shudder wracked through my body.
"She has an unusually appetizing scent," Mason allowed, meeting Samuel's eyes with a gentle gaze before contemplatively setting his chin on his knuckles. "It's... amusing."
"I don't get it," Kira whined, "I mean, I agree, it's certainly a fun theory. I'd love to have a badass of a sister-in-law one day-"
Mason choked on inhale.
"-But that's a lot of power for a witch. I thought they were just humans with magical affinity. The masked woman broke your arm!"
"We don't know what witches can or can't do," Samuel sighed. "Maybe they can augment their strength somehow."
"Her scent is an important point too," Anne huffed, "If the masked woman and Sara are one in the same, then why wouldn't Sara hide her scent around vampires? If she has the capacity to lessen her risk of injury around vampires, why wouldn't she use that? They can't be the same person. She's just a hunter."
Mason's eyes glittered as he threaded his fingers together beneath a self-satisfied smirk.
"No..." Kira muttered contemplating the ceiling with a furrowed brow, "You really think...?"
"You think she's both?" Leo completed pressing both palms to the table incredulously, "A hunter and a witch?"
"You can't be serious," Anne snubbed, "Then she's altering her scent to be more appetizing to lure us? That's suicidal!"
"I'm entirely serious," Mason said firmly, eyes examining the wood-grain of the table, "And, yes, Kira, she fits the pattern."
I started, watching as the others turned to him for explanation. He and his adoptive sister were on opposite ends of the table, neither staring at the other despite the group having turned toward Mason. My stomach dropped.
A non-contact mind-reader?!
Mind reading was rare. Mind reading without contact was something never recorded before in our histories. The closest we'd encountered was eye-contact-activated. This appeared entirely passive.
"Kira asked about the previous hunters I encountered," Mason explained, then chewed on his lower lip, "There were two or three while I was in Chicago. They acted similar to how Sara does: disdain seemingly without reason and heightened watchfulness. Often they would purposefully play-down their physical prowess in an attempt to get me to lower my guard."
"And their mental stability?" Samuel pressed.
"Only one I left alone," Mason admitted, "The other two... well, it was clear each of them had killed innocents by their memories. I... dealt with them."
I shivered.
"Sara's not like them," Mason continued, "She's cautious about this. I think she was lured by the deaths in the park and happened upon us as a potential cause. I don't think she's perpetrating the killings."
Anne clicked her tongue, "So she's hunting us. With magic. Forget her romantic unavailability. We've got an even better reason to have nothing to do with her."
"Why bother engaging with her if you think she's trying to kill you?" Leo wondered with a grin, as if he already knew the answer.
Mason looked to the ceiling, a more absent smile gracing his lips.
"The thoughts she has shared..." Mason chuckled to himself, "Well, she's intriguing. Just because I can't read her mind doesn't mean I've met my match. I'll figure her out. That she likely thinks she can kill me is just icing on the cake."
I nearly did, you stupid-!
The crackling of gravel sucked my presence back to the spot at the base of the tree where I crouched. It was much too close for my liking. Headlights swung across the treeline and flashed over my eyes, momentarily blinding me.
Shoot!
I slapped a hand to my core, imbuing strength and speed onto my body. The effect was immediate. Without a thought, I moved onto the balls of my feet and fled.