A witch among witchs

The way I figured it, if those mindless things were coming after me, whether I liked it or not, why not throw them a welcoming party? I'd take pride in being the best hostess they'd ever had. Everything was laid out for their hearts' desire-never mind that I had no idea if they even had hearts. I aimed to please and surprise them so hard they'd drop dead on the spot. If I were a lucky girl. But I was a believer, and that's why I was at a construction site in the middle of Manhattan, making sure my guests had everything arranged for their pleasure: thirteen hearts, two Desert Eagles, some throwing knives, and last but not least, my two Butterflies-Butter and Fly.

I never claimed to be creative. The hearts were among my favorite weapons, metal shaped into perfect hearts-almost paper-thin and able to cut through anything, except bone. My Desert Eagles, a heaven of black aluminum and stainless steel, fit perfectly in my hands. My throwing knives had become like removable fingers to me, and my Butterflies were my most prized possessions. The blades were as long as my forearm, making them easy to conceal and carry. They were identical, with longer-than-usual crossguards that allowed me to hold them in several different positions; their single-edged blades sliced through bone with ease. I loved my babies, and I was pretty sure my guests were going to... Oh, shoot. I blew it, didn't I? I'd arranged everything for my pleasure, not theirs. Bad, bad, Scarlet.

Resisting a smile was impossible. I'd waited for this night for over two years, and it was finally coming together the way I wanted it to. My magic surged in short bursts of energy. I couldn't see it, but I felt it. I intensified it while holding my breath, because I needed my guests to arrive soon. Rain poured heavily outside. It was cold up here, on the ninth floor of the building under reconstruction. The walls were missing, and tools littered the ground-tools I'd use as weapons if necessary.

And my guests... I wasn't sure what they were, but they looked pretty ordinary if you missed their pupils, which were vertically slit like a cat's. Oh, and they were all men, too. No idea why. The first time I saw one was almost two years ago. He chased me like a hawk its prey until he cornered me in an alley and began to suck me dry. Vampires were bad, but this guy? He was horror incarnate. He drained my powers and left me for dead. I didn't wake up for a full day afterward. At the time, I had no idea what had happened or what he'd done to me. I thought he'd taken all my magic, never to be restored again. To this day, I still can't figure out if I was happy or sad about it. But my magic returned, just like always, and within forty-eight hours, I was as good as new.

It was another three months before I encountered Mindless Thingies Two and Three. They did exactly what the first one had, and I bounced back just the same. I called them mindless because they never spoke. I'd never heard any of them utter a single word or make a sound. They came, they stared, they smiled, and they sucked power. They felt it, too. That's how they found me four times in a row before I learned to shield myself. Shield my powers.

Which was another thing I had no idea about, because I'd never met anyone like me or anyone who knew others with the same kind of magic. I had magic; I felt it and could use it, but didn't. Using it meant attracting the mindless thingies, and you never knew when they might decide to end me for good. I'd spent a lifetime hiding my magic, but hiding it from them was a whole other story. They felt it, even when I wasn't using it, so I had to teach myself how to lock it deep inside. It took me a year, but now it was as easy as breathing.

My eyes closed as I focused on my ears. When I heard footsteps a floor below me, I let out a long breath and turned around. It was time to properly welcome my guests. With Butter in one hand, Fly hidden under my sleeve, and four throwing knives in the other, I was ready. Guns were fun, but they didn't seem to hurt them-at least not unless I got close and personal, the barrel kissing their skulls. It was just a theory, one I had yet to prove, but I was taking my chances.

The first one who stepped onto the open floor, surrounded by dirt, tools, and a few pillars, was really tall. His black hair was slicked back, his muscles rippling under his black shirt. After him came three others. They all looked somewhat alike, but not quite. At first glance, you'd think they were brothers, but if you looked closely, you'd spot the differences-like how the second guy's eyes were wide-set, the third was bald, and the fourth had muscles like he was on steroids. A chill crept up my spine. I was prepared for only two, because they always came after me in pairs. Fear snaked its way to my throat, forming a lump that made it hard to breathe. The thunder outside shook the building in response to my hammering heart.

They all smiled at me, and I smiled back. "Scared" didn't even begin to describe how I felt, but I wasn't backing down. I was tired of running. It was time to serve them a few refreshments-my throwing knives. Locking down my magic tightly inside, I threw all four knives at once and ran forward in the same breath. They were ready, as ready as ever, charging at me in an instant, oblivious to the knives now buried in their bodies. Swinging my arm, I caught the first one across the face with my sword. Blood exploded, spraying my face as I spun around and took out the next. They each tried to grab my hair-a move I expected. I dodged away and swung my arms as fast as I could.

There were four of them and one of me, and no matter how much of a kick-ass I thought I was, I had to step back while they came after me with fists and kicks. But that was a move I anticipated. I left my other weapons in the middle of the room, and now I was barely four feet away from them. Good thing the mindless thingies didn't use weapons. Bad thing: their fists were huge and felt like hammers-like the one the bald guy hit me with on the jaw. No teeth came out that I could tell, but my vision blurred long enough for one of them to kick me straight in the chest and send me flying. I landed on my back on the concrete floor. The fist that came for my face sent my senses into overdrive, and I began swinging my arms uncontrollably. The next thing I knew, a fist was actually on my face-except now it was detached from the rest of the arm.

My eyes stung as I tried not to squint and spun around, tossing the cut hand off me and scrambling away so I could stand up. Part of me was starting to accept that I'd made a mistake. A colossal mistake. I wasn't prepared for this-for four of them. But I shoved that thought aside as best as I could, ignoring my instincts, which urged me to use my magic. If I did that, I was done for.

The other weapons were right next to me now, and as the mindless creatures came at me, trying to grab, trip, or knock me down, I jumped and crouched, reaching for one of my weapons. They were close and personal now, as close as they'd ever get, so why waste time? Gunfire echoed in the empty space, and the bullet pierced a shoulder. Not good enough. Stepping back, I aimed more carefully and pulled the trigger as the bulky guy lunged at me, arms outstretched like he wanted a hug. The bullets hit his chest, but he didn't stop. When his arms wrapped around me, I cried out and squeezed the trigger one last time before I ran out of bullets. Luckily, my aim had been good because the steroid guy fell with a bullet hole under his chin.

No time to celebrate; I still had three more to deal with. I tossed the empty gun aside and focused on one of my swords, swinging it as if it were part of me. I spun, dropped to my knees, came back up, dodging hits more times than I could count. When I slashed the throat of the bald one and he collapsed, his strange eyes wide, I realized just how tired I was. My muscles screamed in protest. Training, clearly, was nothing like a real fight, but I was determined to see this through. Besides, I only had two left.

The creatures were angrier than I'd ever seen. I darted to the side, grabbed a fistful of hearts, slicing my palm in the process. I threw them without aim, no time to spare-they were already in front of me. They didn't move as fast as vampires but were quicker than ordinary people, making it hard to predict where their limbs would be. Dropping to my knees, I swiped my sword across their legs, but it didn't cut deep enough; they were still standing. One moved behind me while the other kept swinging punches. My only option now was to stay low. I'd practiced these moves, but as I said, the real thing was much tougher. Somehow, I managed to keep them at bay until I saw four figures in the distance.

The creatures made no sound, and I'd been too focused on survival to hear them coming. My first thought was the ECU. If it was them, I was in deeper trouble. But a closer look told me these weren't officers-right before a punch caught my face, sending me to the ground. I lost balance and fell, landing on my other gun. Swinging my arms around, it took me a moment to realize the creatures weren't advancing now that I was down. No, they were frozen in place, one by my feet and the other by my head, staring at the newcomers as if... as if they were food. But the newcomers looked so ordinary. Could they be like me?

No time to find out. "Run!" I shouted with all the strength I had, jumping back up with my gun in hand. I shot the creature at my feet, hitting the back of its head, and it fell face-first. But the one behind grabbed my hair and yanked me back with all its strength. A blink later, I found myself sprawled six feet away, barely able to breathe. My vision blurred as I watched it approach the newcomers. The girl screamed as two of them surged forward, stopping a couple of feet away and raising their arms. Wind began to whirl, stronger than anything nature could muster-for just a moment. My heart froze as I watched the air sizzle around the creature as it absorbed their energy, taking its time. I pulled the trigger until my finger went numb, aiming at its head. But no bullet reached it, blocked by the magic it was feeding on. I ran back for my other sword, intending to decapitate it now that its back was turned.

"Run!" I yelled at the newcomers again, but in the time it took me to grab my sword, the creature had immobilized all four of them. Damn, it was fast. I learned that firsthand when I swung both swords at its neck, only for it to lean forward. I missed by less than an inch, but a miss was a miss. The newcomers lay on the ground, trembling as it drained them and dodged me. A scream tore from my throat as thunder roared in my ears. When it finally turned to me-it was the one with wide-set eyes-I kept attacking, tearing into its torso until I'd made a mess of it. But it no longer attacked. It just looked at me, eyes wide and bloodshot as if in a trance, then turned and bolted for the stairs.

I could chase after it-that was the sensible thing to do. Run and get it while I had the chance. But the four strangers were still here, broken and barely breathing, and three other creatures were behind me. Here's another thing about these creatures: they didn't die. I'd shot them in the head and chest, yet they kept coming back. They took their time, but they healed, and as much as I wanted to go after the one who fled, I couldn't leave the others here. They'd be out of it for a whole day, and the creatures would revive and feed on their magic too.

I dropped to the ground, exhaled deeply, and let myself breathe. No point in being angry at myself now. No point in hasty decisions. For now, I had to get these people to safety and figure out how they found me-and how they existed. I'd always thought the creatures only preyed on me. They hunted me and my magic because I was the only one whose power suited their tastes. I'd watched them from afar, whenever I could track them, and I'd never seen them target other witches-or any kind of supernatural being. But these strangers had been drained like me, as if they had the same magic I did. That made me feel... I wasn't sure what it made me feel. Confused, definitely, but everything else would have to wait.

The first thing I did was walk over to the three creatures. They looked dead; I might've believed it if I hadn't seen them come back with my own eyes. I'd fought two of them the fourth time they ambushed me in the city. I'd cut the throat of one, stabbed the other in the forehead, and drove my sword into the head of another. I left them there, hidden, to see if anyone would find them. No one did. Instead, within an hour, they revived, pulled out my weapons, and tossed them aside. Their wounds closed, and they walked off like they hadn't even been in a fight. Like robots.

This time, I was extra careful, burying my magic deep inside to make sure it wouldn't slip out. With trembling hands, I reached out and touched the throat of the one I'd slashed. His skin felt normal. Cold, but normal. The blood around his neck had dried, meaning he was already healing. Checking his pockets crossed my mind, but I didn't dare spend too long near him. Instead, I lifted my sword and brought it down on his neck. On the third attempt, his head separated from his body. This was the one thing I hadn't tried before. Logic said that without a head, they wouldn't return. I did the same to the other two until I had three heads and three bodies before me.

Hope was strong that they were truly dead, but hope made you weak, so I wasn't betting on it. Buying myself at least some time, I turned to the four people unconscious on the ground and got to work.

It took a long time to scrub the dried blood from my skin. I was bruised in countless places, but thankfully, I was only cut on my lower lip. Healing spells didn't work on me for some reason-not that I was eager to use magic again so soon, with only eight hours passed since my last run-in with those thoughtless things. It had been one hell of a night, finding four different places to stow the unconscious strangers. I'd have broken into apartments if I'd had time, but I settled for inns. They were usually packed, keeping prying eyes away-and hopefully keeping the thoughtless things away too.

Those creatures hadn't come after me again after they'd sucked me dry and left me in the street, so I figured magic didn't radiate from me when I was out. The same should hold true for those four strangers. I'd ended up staying in the room with the last guy I'd dragged inside. The bathroom was cramped, but it did the job, and forty minutes after I turned on the shower, I came out looking as clean as I was going to get.

I'd avoided thinking too hard about the situation, but now, as I sat on the floor, eating pizza and watching the guy sleep soundly on the bed, I couldn't dodge it any longer. Who were these people? Why had the thoughtless things attacked them? Could they really be like me?

In my world, there are four kinds of witches-well, three now. Blood, Bone, and Green. Hedge witches used to exist, but they were infamous for being power-hungry and drove themselves to extinction a few decades back. I was born and raised in a Blood family-a lineage of powerful witches. My parents, wealthy snobs who could barely stand the sight of me, sent me to a special school in Washington for troubled witches because handling me took too much effort. They hoped the academy would coax a little magic out of me before the ritual.

Witches are born with magic, though some more than others-it's just luck. We only receive our powers at eighteen, through a ritual performed by our parents. Girls inherit their magic from their mothers, boys from their fathers. After that, you're considered a witch. For Blood witches, magic comes from blood; for Bone witches, from bone; and for Greens, from Earth. Hedges had been strongest at dusk but were weakest in daylight. That's why they were easy to kill off.

When my family prepared me for the ritual to ignite the magic in my blood, they were thrilled. I was terrified-terrified because I knew it wouldn't work, while they believed it would. Needless to say, I was right and they were wrong.

I remember my first attempts at magic as a kid-I couldn't manage even a spark. My brother and sister, only a year younger than me, could create little fireworks or make flowers bloom, the typical tricks eight-year-old witches could do. But not me. I tried like hell and cried for a week afterward. My parents noticed but refused to accept it. They scolded me for being weak-willed and locked me in my room. They held a grudge against an eight-year-old, for God's sake. People really should have to pass a test before they're allowed to have kids because my parents were terrible at it.

That was about the time I started acting out. I broke things, stole things, fought my siblings every chance I got, and pretty much cut myself off from everyone. I was jealous, hurt, and confused, like any kid would be, but I had no one to talk to. I never stopped trying to do magic, though.

The first time I noticed something odd, I was sitting by the pool at home. It was two in the morning, and everyone was asleep. I was trying to make sparks-supposedly the easiest thing for a witch to do. I got so mad I refused to go inside, even when it started raining. The harder I tried, the angrier I got, and the heavier the rain fell. Call me crazy, but it's true. I proved it to myself by doing it every night for three months straight. I was the one making it rain, stirring the wind, and sometimes, there'd even be distant lightning.

Ten years later, I'd be able to summon lightning from my own hand, but that's a story for another time.

By thirteen, I could feel magic under my skin. It wasn't like what the others described, or like what my father's books said, but it was something. I was proud of it. I could summon gusts of wind as I pleased, but I still couldn't make those damn sparks.

At eighteen, I performed the ritual with my mother, who barely spoke to me by that point. After it failed, I moved to Manhattan alone. My family was fine with it-happy, even. As long as I stayed away, they'd keep sending me money and pretending I didn't exist. I took what I could get and made peace with it.

Until now.

The guy on the bed looked completely ordinary. Broad shoulders but not quite broad enough for a werewolf. Not a vampire, either. Not a fae-their eyes were violet, their ears pointed, and this guy's ears were quite round. So he was a witch. But what kind?

As if reading my mind, he moved his hand. I swallowed, the pizza slice wedged halfway to my mouth. Nine hours had passed since he'd been sucked dry. I'd never woken up earlier than twenty-four hours after one of their attacks. At first, I thought he was just shifting in his sleep, but then he turned his head. Slowly, I set the pizza slice back in the box and stood up. My weapons lay on the small desk by the door. I walked over, keeping my movements slow, and picked up two throwing knives, just in case.

Holding my breath, I watched his chest rise and fall, his hand twitching slightly... until he turned his face toward me, and his eyes opened.

I managed a smile, though I didn't feel it. My fingers were sweaty, and the knives slipped slightly in my grip. His brows shot up as he took in my damp hair and glanced down at himself. It took him a moment to realize he was bound to the window bars.

Uh oh.