Apprentices: Waning Crescent

Terror

I sit down on my bed, watching my room like I see it for the first time. I miss this place. But I can’t stay here as long as my mother doesn’t get caught. Or at least until we figure out who she’s controlling or what she wants. It’s not safe for me. I shouldn’t even be here alone at this moment.

But right now, I couldn’t care less about it. I got my shot of blood and I couldn’t feel better about myself. I’m almost at peace. Almost. All my worries are just buried somewhere at the back of my mind and I don’t have to think. It’s refreshing. I know the effect won’t last long. I’m still allowed to enjoy it, though, right?

Suddenly, Beelzebub attracts my attention. She jumps from the desk, starting to pace in front of the bed nervously with her ears drawn backwards. Until finally, she scrambles under the bed, leaving me alerted.

I glance at the door, an eerie feeling arising inside my chest. As I realize the knob is slowly turning, I don’t think twice. I quietly slip under the bed myself, ignoring all the dust that’s gathered underneath. I pull my bag with me in the last moment, before I hear the familiar click of the door.

I gulp nervously, glancing into the corner where Bubba is hiding. I can barely see her because the covers are reaching the ground, making it really dark. But I can tell by the way her eyes are glinting that she’s shaking in terror. I could bet that she sensed the person that hurt her in front of that door.

Shit. I need to let someone know where I am, or else I’m screwed! I quickly pull the phone out of my pocket, grateful that I’m carrying it around like that. The first thing I do is silent it, then go text the first person that comes to my mind. My room, please! I’m in danger!

I put the phone away, realizing that I’m trembling again. But this time, it has nothing to do with feeling the need for blood. Soon enough, silent footsteps move inside, and I can hear the door close behind whoever just got in. I’m scared to even breathe. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I can’t get discovered. No matter what.

I listen intently as the footsteps move through the room. I can hear a strange sound, but I can’t connect it to anything right now. But the next one is so familiar, that I can’t mistake it for anything else. I freeze. Whoever’s in here has been checking on my minifridge! They know I’m drinking blood!

As realization hits in, I almost feel like fainting. If they’ve been keeping track of me this way … Checking if I’ve been coming back, so they could finish their business … Does that mean that they know I’m in here right now?

My breathing gets heavier, but I don’t dare to block the sounds underneath the bed in. I’ll have to use my voice for the spell and that will blow my cover. I might as well just show myself then! No. I have to prepare a different spell. I don’t care who’s out there, they’re a damn psychopath for trying to kill Bubba! No one lays their hand on my cat and gets away with it!

I can now see a pair of feet, moving in front of the bed. I can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman. Damn it. I’ll get discovered soon! Alright then. Blood magic it is. Get ready to feel pain, b***h or bastard, whatever the f**k you are.

I hold my breath, already preparing the spell inside my mind. I’m shaking like crazy and I can tell Bubba is scared to death too, but I won’t let anything happen to her. Not while I’m here.

The feet stop right in front of my face, then suddenly turn around. In the next moment, I can already see a set of knees, a hand reaching towards the covers to lift them up and I’m just waiting for the face to show, so I can shoot a spell right at it.

But before I’m even able to see who’s out there, I can hear the door flying off the hinges, making the person get up in surprise. In the next moment, they’re already thrown against the window with a pained oof, then slide down my nightstand and land on the ground with a violent thud.

As I see Astrid’s face in front of me, I gasp in shock. Her eyes are closed, which means she’s been knocked out. But I just hope that whoever did all that is on my side! “Evelyn?!” I hear Cyrus’s voice, calling me in panic. I don’t dare respond, what if she’s just pretending to be down?! “Evelyn, you can come out, she’s knocked out!” he yells out in despair.

I’m unable to say anything. I just reach out with my hand, barely even making myself put it out from under the bed. I can hear him rushing towards me and as I feel his hand grasp me, then begins to pull me out, I start crying from the relief.

As he gets me out, he starts running his hands down my hair and my clothes, cleaning off the dust that I gathered from under the bed. “Bubba,” I breathe out, making him grow even more serious. But as he peeks under the bed, the cat already comes running out of it, escaping into the hallway. “No, Bubba!” I call out, barely grabbing her leash before she runs away. I pull her back, but she’s fighting me with all her might, literally digging her claws into the ground.

“Come, let’s get you two out of here,” Cyrus finally says, getting up, then pulls me with him as he realizes I can’t even stand up on my own. As we get outside, he stops, directs his hand into the room and I can see a thin membrane spread across the doorframe. “There. Just in case she tries to escape,” he murmurs, glancing at the still motionless Astrid.

I don’t say a word, but I can barely move my feet as we head upstairs, progressing so slowly that it probably drives him nuts. But he’s so patient with me, that it makes me feel like crying again. He leads me straight to the office then sits me down on the armchair, offering Bubba some water and food.

Then, he sets a glass of blood in front of me and says: “I’ll call Hugh. They’ll take care of her.” In the next moment, he’s already dialing his number, moving to the other side of the office, so I can’t hear their conversation.

I stare at the glass for a few long moments, fighting the urge inside me. But then, I finally give in, grabbing the damn thing and gulping down its content without a second thought. The lightheadedness sets in soon after, leaving me blissfully calm for a few minutes.

I only listen to his conversation with half my ear. I’m just sitting there, sunk deep into the armchair like it’s going to help me hide. The blood warms me up and helps me cool down enough to be able to think.

Why does my mother keep picking warrior witches to do her dirty work? What does she get out of it? Besides that they’re incredibly capable, driven and obedient? They’re also trained killers. They help her get info from the first hand. She’s always one step ahead of us, right? And … I draw in a sharp breath of realization. It’s her way of decreasing the number of people, that could catch her.

I grip the armchair tightly, ready to tell Cyrus all about it, when I suddenly start shaking again. I stare at the empty glass, watching the last drops of blood that are coating the inside. I grab it, not even thinking twice before scooping the remains on my finger and licking it off.

In the next moment, I freeze as I realize my mentor is watching me from a few steps away, having that knowing expression covering his face. I slowly pull my finger out, swallowing nervously. “We have running water, you know that right?” he remarks as he makes his way towards me, studying my face intently.

I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t really have anything to say in defense. He caught me red-handed. Literally. What the hell am I supposed to tell him? “I was just … I needed it,” I say, trying to pull myself out of it, but it’s not like I even gave him a proper excuse.

He leans his arms on the armchair, resting them on either side of my legs, so I don’t have any room to escape him. Or his knowing gaze that’s threatening to drill the truth out of me if necessary. “Evelyn. Do you have a problem?” he asks in a low tone, staring at me in a serious way.

But the longer I watch him, the more I feel that urgent need to pull his face towards mine again. For me, blood is nothing compared to him. He’s even more addictive. “I have a problem with you not keeping yourself away, like you said you would. You’re confusing me. How am I supposed to control myself?” I ask him silently, before I’m able to stop myself.

He stiffens at my words, an unknown emotion flickering across his face, before being replaced with that mask of blankness again. “Stop changing the subject, when I ask you something,” he demands, furrowing his eyebrows.

I lean forward in a provocative way, knowing very well that my top is uncovering a little more cleavage than it usually does. I literally want to see his eyes jump down. It’s my goal in this moment. But his jaw clenches and he seems to be fighting himself again as I keep my face close to his. To my disappointment, he doesn’t glance down. Not even once.

I pout offendedly, but I’m a little happy that he doesn’t jump away from me. Although I try not to think about what that means. I don’t want to go there just yet. “You’re making this extremely difficult, Eva,” he remarks harshly, then pushes me back, so I’m forced to lean into the armchair. I gasp in surprise. “Are you okay? Were you hurt back there?” he then wants to know.

He stares at me in a demanding way, while I don’t know what to tell him. I wasn’t hurt. Not physically. But knowing that my mom keeps mind controlling warrior witches around me is quite scary. “No. You got to me in time,” I respond bitterly, then realize that I’m being ungrateful. “Thank you,” I quickly add, making sure that he knows I mean it.

He breathes in slowly, then nods in the same way. His head barely moves. “I told you I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re with me,” he lets me know in such a soft voice, that he almost makes me purr in satisfaction.

“But I’m not really with you,” I remark, making his gaze harden. He straightens up, and I realize I’ve clearly said the wrong words.

“Stop it,” he murmurs weakly, shaking his head with a deep frown covering his face. I get up, taking a step closer to him, because I clearly can’t control myself. I don’t know what made him think that I can. And I don’t even want to.

I shake my head. “When are you going to tell me why you really keep turning me down? Because I know you want me just as badly as I want you,” I murmur in an alluring way, not knowing how I’m able to stay so calm. It must be the blood. I’ve just had a crazy experience in my room and it all seems to be in the past as I stare into his eyes.

His jaw clenches. “The moment you tell me why you’ve been licking blood off your finger,” he lets me know, making my face fall. I watch him defiantly, already calculating what would that mean for me. Finally, I press my lips together, deciding to keep quiet. “I thought so,” he remarks victoriously, then takes the glass away.

He leaves towards the kitchen area with it, while I stare after him in surprise. It doesn’t happen very often, that someone manages to shut me up like this. And what’s the worst part? The effect of the blood is starting to wear off. I can already feel myself drifting back into the state I was in when he brought me up here. Terror. All I feel is terror.