#witch!oc

"It was Minnie before."

"What?"

"When you introduced yourself, it was Minnie. Not Minerva." Carlisle explained as he released her hand, relief flooded through him when she smiled. It was something he'd thought about more than he needed to. He spent a lot of time replaying his time with her behind closed eyes, as near to a dream as he could get.

"I don't remember that at all." Minerva admitted with a slight laugh, "Are you lying to me?"

"No!" He placed a hand over his heart, "Scout's honour."

Her eyes rolled, "Cause you're such a Boy Scout." She said sarcastically, turning her gaze to the darkening tree line, "I really did, then?"

"Oh, yes." He assured following her eyes, "Alice told me it was Minerva when I got home."

Minerva kissed her teeth, "Can't trust you Cullens with anything." His eyes shot down to her face to find her already smiling, a sight which made the sudden jolt of anxiety dissipate instantly. She nudged his shoulder lightly, "too easy."

"Shut up." He chuckled shaking his head, "Was it an impulse thing, Minnie?"

It always is with you. Looking up at him, shoulder to shoulder, was entirely too close. Nearly debilitating. She'd forgotten just how transfixing his weird fucking eyes were; a deep ochre, like he'd trapped the sun in his iris. Her own eyes darted back to the sky as she took a shaky drag off her cigarette.

"I don't even know." She admitted honestly, letting out a puff of smoke, "Maybe I felt like reinventing that day. Minnie does sound a bit softer, takes the edge off." She could feel him observing the side of her face. An unwelcome need was blossoming in her chest, something that had taunted her for the last few months. A need to be known. Carlisle had a way of stirring that up. Her lips pressed a little tighter together, as if it would be something physical to spill more than she should.

"Would you rather be Minnie?"

Whether he realized it or not, it was a fucking loaded question. Her mouth twitched ever so slightly toward a smile. Would you rather be soft? That's the question she was hearing. Is that who you want to be? The answer to that, unwaveringly, was yes but the fact of the matter was that she wasn't soft. Minerva wasn't sure she could be, even if she tried. All this aside, she answered the question, neglecting her internal nuance. "No." She replied decidedly, "Can't imagine getting cussed out by someone named Minnie."

"Me neither." He resolved with a chuckle, "Minerva it is, then." Another thing she'd forgotten. Good lord, why'd he have to say it like that? All the bite, all the hardness she felt her name occupied was absent when he said it. There was the softness.

"Minerva, it is." She agreed, pressing what little life was left in her cigarette out against the holy brick and flicking it off to the grass. "I need a drink."

Carlisle followed on her heels, breath still held like a vice in his useless lungs. He wondered what she might say, if she knew how her blood sang to him? She certainly wouldn't turn to look at him the way she did, just to make sure he was still there with her tinted lips turning up in a light smile. Literally and figuratively, Minerva took his breath away.

It astounded him that she didn't have the faintest clue the effect she had. Beyond the temptation of her divine ichor, the simple temptation of her. Though he hadn't been able to form the words to tell her, she looked astounding; the kind of beautiful that invoked the instinct to drop to his knees and pray.

She'd been right before when she teasingly remarked that the least of God's concerns was his cursing. In fact, there were quite a few things on the docket ahead of cussing. One in particular, that Carlisle was certain was highlighted, underlined and tabbed on the list was his complete and utter infatuation with a witch. Probably directly underneath his own status as a bloodsucking, creature of the night.

If he was going to hell anyway, he couldn't think of anything more worth hellfire than loving Minerva. As long as there was something more tangible than a late night, accidental split-second kiss he could look back on, he'd be more than happy to burn.

Minerva's heels clicked slightly on the polished floor as they made their way toward the staircase. A couple of voices echoed up the well and Minerva put her arm out, stopping dead. His brows furrowed, he hadn't been listening. There were too many other sounds going on for him to find any one of them worth tuning in to.

Minerva's localized and perfectly average hearing, however, had picked up on something. "I thought that bastard wasn't coming! You told me he wasn't!" Her eyes turned to him, an eyebrow quirking upward.

"I didn't think Dana was being serious when she said she was going to invite him." It was the groom, Carlisle recognized that voice. "He's really not that bad."

It was met with a scoff. "Yeah, well.. if Dana was walking in on his arm, you'd be pretty pissed off." The voice matched a face, very suddenly. Last he'd seen it, it was dripping with craft beer after Minerva had subtly broken his chair.

"Dana's my wife." Benny replied meaningfully, "You don't get to lay some moronic claim on a woman you hardly know and then make it her problem. Buck up, apologize to her and stop being such a freak about the doctor."

Minerva's lips were set in a line, not quite a scowl but certainly not impressed. Her eyes flickered up to his and she mouthed simply: "I love Benny."

It wasn't until the double doors at the bottom of the stairs clicked shut that Minerva let out a breath. "Dumb fuck." She muttered, finally moving forward. "I owe you twenty bucks."

"It does sound like it." Carlisle agreed, tucking his hands behind his back as they took the stairs. "What's he going to apologize for?"

"He was a real dick last time I was at the lodge." Minerva said simply, holding the railing as they descended. "It's not important." He was fortunate to know Minerva well enough to gauge that whatever had happened bothered her. For that reason, he thought it to be important.

Carlisle hadn't cared for Gus to begin with, though he hadn't wasted too much thought on the man. All he knew about the man was that Gus had a massive crush on Minerva and an equally massive loathing for Carlisle. It made sense. Evidently, everyone in the town of Forks could see what Minerva tactfully turned her eyes away from. Even still, it didn't bother him. Gus didn't stand a snowball's chance in winning Minerva over, her opinion on mortal romance was quite clear.

Disrespect, however, Carlisle had an issue with. Not towards himself, not in the slightest but Minerva was another matter. "He doesn't know who he's trifling with." Carlisle remarked making Minerva's lips quirk up in that resistant little smile.

"They never do." She replied simply, pulling the door open before he could reach for it.

It was a decisive B-line toward the bar the moment she stepped through the door. Music blasted through the venue, a DJ in the corner was bopping his head to the tune of some Pearl Jam song she couldn't remember the name of.

"What'll it be?" The bartender yelled over the music as they approached. It was a bit cruel to set the speakers up right next to the bar.

"Rum n' coke!" Minerva hollered back, "Double, please!"

"I figured!"

The witch just beamed in response as the bartender went about mixing her drink, he slid it deftly across the counter. "Much obliged!" She shouted back before nodding toward a far corner. Minerva never had a dog, which was an affront to her God, but she'd always preferred cats. Regardless, she could imagine what it felt like. Carlisle, it seemed, was going to be fixed to her heels all evening like a dog waiting for his next command.

It made her reconsider her stance. Perhaps a Border Collie or some kind of shepherd, maybe a bullmastiff.

"What kind of dog do you think you'd be?" She asked, once they were far enough away from the music.

"What?" He waved a hand when she started to repeat herself, beginning to laugh. "I heard you! Where is that question coming from?"

Minerva shrugged innocently. She wasn't about to tell him why she was thinking about it. "Answer the question!"

"Maybe a border collie." He admitted after a moment of thought." Son of a bitch."Or a Saint Bernard. They're the guiding type."

Minerva frowned ironically, nodding in approval. "I was thinking a shih tzu for you but that's way more accurate."

He rolled his eyes, smile unmoved. "What would you be?"

"I'm a cat person." She responded over the music, taking a deep sip of her drink— really more of a gulp. "Maybe a Doberman."

"Something that looks mean but is really, very friendly." Carlisle noted earning a disgruntled look that made his smile grow.

"I'll kill you!" She said, voice still elevated.

"You know you don't have to yell for me right?" He asked, leaning in a little so he wouldn't have to say it quite so loud. "My hearing is above average."

"Maybe I just like yelling at you." Minerva replied in a more natural tone, though she could hardly hear herself speak over the music.

"That's fine too!" It made her chuckle that he still had to yell to be heard. There was something so deeply embarrassing in yelling over music, he could suffer a bit.

Carlisle had seen Minerva drink and he had seen Minerva drunk. Even still, it felt like watching an Olympian in action. The casual trips back to the bar, where it seemed the bartender had just been making the drink in advance and sliding it forward at the sight of her approach. How much she was ingesting versus how collected she was made him ask several, private questions about her tolerance. That he knew of she'd had three flutes of champagne and four doubles. The average person would be fast tracking being face down in a ditch by that point but Minerva was far from a normal person and, as a result, simply at ease.

"Oh, Bella looks like she's having fun." Minerva's voice was so quiet that Carlisle couldn't tell if it was an observation he was meant to hear. Bella looked miserable, leaning against a far wall next to her father who was engrossed in a loud conversation. Carlisle could guess the beer in his hand wasn't his first.

He followed on her heels as Minerva weaves through the people to get over to the girl, who didn't pay them any notice until Minerva was bumping her shoulder with her own. "Having a ball or what?"

Bella just gave her a look before her eyes travelled to the witch's accomplice, at which point they lit up. "It's fine." It was far from subtle, the way Bella's dark eyes flickered back and forth between them, her eyebrows raised. "A-Are you having fun?"

"Absolute riot." Minerva responded sipping at her drink before leaning close to the girl. She was about to say more when she perked up. "Oh, Bella.." she held her drink out to the vampire with a smile, "Do you know the best part of weddings?" The girl just looked confused.

"You said it's the open bar." Her confusion was evident, brown pulling together.

"Okay, the second best thing." Minerva grinned, a smile that took over her entire face as she took the girls hands, "The dancing."

"No!" Bella pleaded, digging her heels into the floor. All it did was result in a severely ungraceful drag. "I'm begging you— Carlisle, help me!"

He put his hands up in surrender, a pleased smile on his lips. "My hands are full." He gestured to the glass in his hand before giving an encouraging thumbs up.

"Bella— when David Bowie tells you to dance, you fucking dance!" Minerva beamed, grabbing her hands and forcing the girl in an ungrateful twirl.

"I can't dance!"

"Nobody can dance! Nothing is real!" Minerva shouted over the music, "We're all reacting to the way vibrations move through the air and strike our ear drums, let loose!" It came out as a sort of plea, "Looking silly is the point!"

Bella still looked like she wanted to run, though unwillingly swaying to the music. Carlisle was chuckling to himself against the wall, absentmindedly swirling her drink in its glass though his eyes never strayed from her.

Anytime the embarrassment looked like it might grow too much for the girl, Minerva whipped out something more embarrassing to make her laugh. The sprinkler, the hand jive, the Charleston and the drowning man, somehow all made an appearance over the course of two minutes. It was the most Carlisle had seen Minerva smile in, well, ever. There was something unabashed about it, unburdened. Surely the alcohol played a part but he couldn't help the smile growing on his own face. He'd never listened to David Bowie before, at least not this song, but Minerva's mouth moved with every word.

"That wasn't so bad!" Minerva yelled after the retreating girl, following on her heels.As soon as the song had ended, Bella had taken her opening to flee.

"That's your one!" Bella huffed, though a small smile was tugging at her lips, "Don't make me do that again!" Minerva put her hands up in surrender, turning to Carlisle with a satisfied grin.

"You really cut a rug." Carlisle complimented, handing her back her drink with an amused smile.

She absentmindedly leaned closer, unnecessarily yelling over the music. The proximity made him distinctly aware of his held breath, "Lotta practice!" She took a drink before adding, "and a metric-fuck ton of false confidence!"

In the corner of his eye, he saw Dana point from the other side of the room before she said something to the woman next to her and the pair came charging over. "You're being ambushed." He said in her ear.

When he leaned back, her brows were knit together but as she was opening her mouth to ask what he was talking about, Dana had reached them.

"Min—" Dana grabbed her hands, breathless from running across the venue. "Oh, where have you been all my life?"

Minerva's eyebrows rose, a grin spreading across her face. "Working on my buzz!" She said over the music, lifting her drink. "Congratulations!"

"Nobody will do shots with us!"

Carlisle, himself, had never done a shot but he knew quite well that shots were the fastest and most effective way to end up face down somewhere. Minerva's eyes lit up, as if she'd just gotten incredible news.

"Fucking spoil sports!" Minerva hollered back, letting Dana drag her along to the bar. Minerva made no attempt to dig her heels in as Bella had when she'd been dragged. It was a wonder the woman didn't float. Even still, she turned her head back to wave a dramatic farewell to the pair.

"How's that going?" Bella asked, nudging him with her elbow. There was something knowing in her eyes that he didn't particularly like. He knew Edward had kept his mouth shut on the complicated logistics of Minerva and Carlisle's dynamic but perhaps he wasn't as good at being cryptic as the former was.

"Very well!" He responded, leaning back against the wall as he watched her appear through the crowd by the bar. There was something in how human she was, in spite of what she was, that fascinated him. He would have been content just to be in the same room as her, "There may be hope for me yet." He could feel Bella's eyes on him making him tear his eyes away from the witch across the room. "I'm rather surprised actually. I didn't expect much warmth."

Bella smiled softly, "Well, she's missed you." The girl said like it was obvious, "Probably more than she'd like to admit."

Carlisle's lips pressed together, he looked away from the younger girl, trying his best not to seek out Minerva, though his eyes automatically found her, tipping back a shot of something. As her head tilted, her hair fell over her shoulder in dark waves. "Yes, well.." he cleared his throat slightly, "I suppose that feeling is mutual."

Whiskey burnt the whole way down her throat as Minerva tipped back a second shot. She knew she was treading dangerously because it didn't taste like anything, just the familiar searing as it descended.

Dana leaned into her side, her eyes scanning over the wedding party with a content smile. "How are things going with Carlisle?"

Minerva rolled her eyes, "Fantastic, we're not talking about it." She smiled.

"Wait— Like you and him aren't talking about it or we're not talking about it?" Dana asked, leaning back a little.

The witch just grinned, "Exactly!"

For the better part of the twentieth century, Minerva lived in nightclubs. Her party girl persona had largely died out with studio 54 in 1980 but her sixth sense for the nearest dance floor had never died out. In fact, Minerva couldn't remember the last time she'd really danced. Of course, a wedding in the small town of Forks was no studio 54 but it suited her new sensibilities just fine.

Minerva couldn't hear music without dancing at least a little bit, so she was all to willing to be dragged to the dance floor. After all, Dana and Benny had fantastic taste in music. Though there was little they could have put on that Minerva would take issue with. She loved music. The logistics, the lyricism, the history, all of it. When they came out with the gramophone Minerva's head nearly exploded.

Music had come along way since the folk classics she grew up with. When she was a kid, half the things people sang about didn't exist. They did now though and Minerva loved this shit. Angel's weren't centrefolds back in her day but they sure as hell were now.

Dancing, singing to music loud enough to drown out her thoughts, it healed something in her. For a few minutes, she was just a normal girl having fun at her friend's wedding the way normal girls were supposed to. Minerva had a decent enough sense of rhythm that even if her dancing was bad, it was easy to overlook. Either way, it sure as hell beat the guys with dancing their hands in their pockets.

A guided twirl nearly put Dana on her ass leading the small huddle of women to cackle as they caught the bride before she hit the ground. "That's a sign you need water!" Minerva shouted over the music.

"Tonic water!" The brunette shouted back, "With gin!" Minerva's head tilted back in a laugh, she really couldn't say much to that without sounding like a hypocrite. When the song ended, Minerva shuffled to the outskirts of the sea of bodies. The bartender eyed her as she walked up, his hand slowly reaching to draw a prepared rum and coke forward.

"Actually, I just get a cola, please?" Minerva said with an apologetic smile.

His eyebrows shot up, "Oh, you do now how to pace yourself." He teased with a grin, leaning across the bar.

"Only on special occasions." The woman beamed as he filled the glass. "Thank you!"

"Hey, what's your name?" He said as she started to turn away. Minerva's lips tugged down in an ironic frown.

"Minerva." She called over the music.

"I'm Jack."

"Like the whiskey!" She rose her drink to him in an ironic cheers, "See you around!" Her senses told her he wanted her to stick around but Minerva didn't have any interest in that. Maybe a couple years ago she'd have given the poor lad the run around for something to do but now, she couldn't imagine entertaining it. Drunk or sober, like it or not, Minerva only had eyes for one person. To be quite clear, she didn't like it but there was no one who could contend. Carlisle was in a league of his own: The bastard major league but the major league, all the same.

Minerva sipped the cola, leaning against the wall to take some pressure off her feet. If the heels weren't starting to get to her, she would have finished the trek over to him. Catching his eye across the room was enough of an invitation for Carlisle though.

It felt a little odd. She could say jump and he'd ask how high? Just a look and he was coming her way. It wasn't like he was engaged across the room. Besides Bella and maybe Charlie, nobody else was going to talk to him. It made her feel awful.

Carlisle, however, was over the moon to meet her eye. In truth, it was the smile that beckoned him over. He took post next to her against the wall, as casually as possible. "Surviving?" She asked, tilting her head up to him.

"Quite." He agreed, his lips turning up in a smile. Carlisle was big on eye contact, he didn't have to put much thought into it. Unless she was being shifty, her eyes were usually locked on to his. This wasn't shifty. Far from. Her eyes, which looked far darker thanks to the dark lining along the lid, flickered for the briefest moment down to his mouth. It was long enough that he couldn't deny what was going through her mind. It was clear as day. He didn't need Edward's ability to know what she was thinking. Instead of looking back to his eyes, she just looked away all together.

"Bella said it's odd to see you dancing in the appropriate setting." He commented, finding himself after a moment of prayer. Carlisle could pretend all day that they hadn't fought, that everything was normal. He wasn't sure how much pretending he could do on that front. Not after this long.

Minerva was a world class pretender, he could follow her lead all day long. It was always the alcohol that made the act slip, without fail. When she'd kissed him that late night, it had been due to a few heavy handed drinks. Now, just a dip of the eyes and he was putty. He wanted her to feel safe enough that her guard could just slip. He wanted a kiss of perfect clarity, he didn't want to hear her apologize, he didn't want either of them to blame the alcohol; something as easy as breathing, which was ironic given breathing was quite difficult.

"I love dancing." She responded with a closed eye smile, "I know em all."

"Every dance?"

Minerva nodded enthusiastically, "Every one."

"I've seen the Charleston and the hand jive." Carlisle said with a laugh, "Waltz?"

"Obviously."

"Tango?"

"Yup."

"Swing?"

"Carlisle, I've spent half my life at a party. I promise you can't name one I haven't learned." Minerva said earnestly.

"The gavotte?"

Her smile tightened as she shook her head, "You son of a bitch."

"I knew I'd have you there." He nudged her shoulder, "I've got one over on you."

"I'm going to go home tonight, learn the gavotte, sober up, drive to your house and kick your ass." She put her finger up with every item on her to to do list before thoughtfully holding her chin between her thumb and index finger on the last item.

His head tilted back with a laugh, "Oh, I'll hold you to that." Carlisle assured.

"Can you hold this?" Minerva requested, holding out her glass. By the colour, he could either guess it was just soda or very mild on the alcohol. He didn't dare breathe in to assess for himself. She started to crouch before she stopped, assessing the slit in her dress with slight animosity before she lifted her knee to reach the buckle of her heel.

Carlisle's jaw tightened as she mindlessly leaned into him to keep from toppling over. A chorus of muttered curses slipped through her lips as she struggled with the clasp, the leg she was standing on wavering. "Okay." He chuckled weakly, almost unsure of himself to speak, "You hold this."

Her hand accepted the drink with a comment of, "you kept it cold" as she steadied herself on two feet. She grappled with her words for a moment as he kneeled down to undo the buckle with far more dexterity than she possessed. "We'll be the talk of the town, Cullen." She warned softly as she put her other foot forward.

He glanced up at her, a mischievous smirk on his pale, pink lips. "Aren't we always?" Carlisle undid the second buckle blindly, raising up from the floor as she stepped out of her shoes. The proximity was close, her eyes raising with him.

It would be so simple just to lean down and steal a kiss. Her lips were lifted in a challenging smile; a dark rouge, the colour of fresh blood. By god, he'd never craved something more. It wouldn't happen like this, not here. He could dream, though, and dream he would.

Minerva didn't shy away, swirling the drink in her glass absentmindedly. "And what are they saying?" Her head tilted the slightest bit, his eyes flickered down to the curve of her neck as her hair slid over her shoulder.

"Well, Gus just called me a motherfucker." Carlisle commented thoughtfully, earning a slight laugh. "Besides him, lots of gossip about what they think is going on, comments on my luck." Her eyebrows lifted a bit and he couldn't help the soft chuckle, speaking out of the corner of his mouth as he moved back to her side, "I'm walking around with the most beautiful woman in the room. I do think that constitutes lucky."

She grappled for a moment, stumbling over her words before she managed to get three strung together, "Oh, shut up." Dismissive as he was, he couldn't miss the flush that rose to her face under the careful layer of makeup. It burned too bright to be subdued. After a moment, she went on with a wry chuckle: "You really are desperate to be back in my good graces."

With his hands tucked in his pockets he shrugged, "I can be honest and desperate." He flashed an innocent smile that only earned an exasperated one in return.

A distant creak of the hardwood floors down the hallway always startles him awake. His large and curious brown eyes would always pop open at the sound, and he’d strain his ears to try to figure out who was walking towards his shared room with Josh. It couldn’t have been his little brother Sam; he was too light to make the floorboards move like that. Josh was snoring above him, oblivious to everything, so that ruled out him. Maybe his parents? But he could hear the heavy thuds of shoes as the sound got closer, and why would his parents have their shoes on in the middle of the night? The realization that it was someone else in the house besides his family made his blood run cold and had him pulling his covers up to his chin as he tried to make himself as small as possible on the bottom bunk.

A few agonizing minutes later, the footsteps were right outside his door, and his younger self was stiff as a board, bracing himself for whomever would enter. Sure enough, the doorknob would slowly twist and a stream of light from the hallway would stream in as the door opened. All he saw before he screwed his eyes shut was a large, intimidating silhouette peering into his room. Jake tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to give it away that he was awake. The intruder made his way into their room, kicking a few toys out of the way in the process. He could feel their presence near his bed, and it took everything in him to not flinch at the putrid breath that was being exhaled into his face.

But Jake was a frightened child, and his instinct was to get to his brother as quickly as possible. When the creature whispered, “jackpot…” his eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to yell for his twin, all while trying to scramble down his bed and make it to the ladder leading up to Josh’s bunk. His tiny hand had just reached one of the bottom bars when the all too familiar sensation of fingers in his hair and being yanked backwards and upwards rattled his system. Distantly he would hear his brother startle awake and barely touching the ladder as he flew down to come to his rescue.

The creature paid Josh no mind while he lifted up the younger boy to his eye level, his mouth twisting into a sadistic smile and revealing the long jagged fangs that extended from his gums.

A Vampire had somehow broken into their extensively guarded house.

Jake kicked and squirmed midair, trying to get the Vampire to drop him, but it was no use. The creature stared into his eyes, hunger clearly on his mind. The young boy couldn’t take it anymore and as he clawed at the Vampire’s wrist he took a deep breath and released a shrill, high pitched shriek that rattled the-

The now adult Jake shot up in bed, silver knife white knuckled in his fist. Through his own personal training, he had taught himself how to sleep with his hand curled around a knife under his pillow, and not letting go of it until he was awake.

His skin was damp and clammy, feeling especially chilled from the ceiling fan spinning above. In spite of this sweat gathered on his hairline, threatening to spill down his face. His eyes darted around the room for any threats, as if he was ready to face off with the Vampire from his memory. But the hunter was alone in the tiny motel room, and when he deduced this he rolled out of bed, still holding the knife. He padded over to the sink in the miniscule kitchenette and poured a glass of water from the sink. He gulped it down but it took two more glasses to finally get some relief in his dry throat.

After setting the glass down and abandoning it next to the sink he went around the room to check his security measures. His crossbow lay still on the other side of the bed, with a wooden arrow locked and loaded, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. With Josh off doing whatever it was he was doing, the weapon was the closest thing he had to a partner in crime.

The solitary window was covered by curtains, and Jake carefully pulled back one of the panels to look out onto the parking lot. The sun was freshly risen, giving him solace in the fact that his ultimate threats were locked inside and away from the light. Sunrises had always been Jake’s favorite for this reason. His shoulders relaxed as he opened the curtains as far as he could, letting in as much natural light as possible. Now that he was awake and definitely not going back to sleep any time soon, he turned his attention to getting a shower and washing off nightmares as best he could.

~!~

It had been over four days now, and Jake still could not get his night at The Tipsy Tumbleweed out of his head. He went to other bars around town to kill time, but all of them were so basic to him. They were too loud, or the drinks sucked, or the TV’s weren’t on anything interesting, or the bartenders would try way too hard to flirt with him for better tips. He wanted to go back, he wanted to see her, he wanted to at least get her name.

But Jake was full of an unfamiliar feeling of intimidation he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked into a situation where he wasn’t the top dog, even when surrounded by Damned corpses who were decades older than him. His exposure to other supernatural creatures was limited. Growing up the focus was so heavily on Vampire’s that he rarely took the time to learn much about others. He usually just relied on Sam to info dump about whatever creature he was obsessed with that month and he’d tuck any useful information into the back of his mind and kept on moving.

Sam’s best friend happened to be a Werewolf, which was a secret that all three Kiszka boys kept to themselves out of respect for Danny, who always seemed like a good kid regardless of his DNA. The twins were just glad that their little brother had finally made a true friend, which was something they always worried about given Sam’s nerdy and introverted nature. The change in Sam after that first summer with Danny was like night and day, and his confidence and ego hadn’t stopped growing since. It was a gift and a curse, Josh would say in exasperation.

Witches however? Jake hadn’t truly met one in person before. He knew of them, and had gotten a few lectures on how to watch out for them. His mother in particular emphasized that they were simply untrustworthy and never expounded beyond that. Once again his brother would fill in the blanks sometimes. He mentioned a few who had gone to his university but he wasn’t particularly close to them. That hadn’t stopped Josh from making cracks about Sam going to Hogwarts whenever he got the chance, or asking if he had any classes with Hermione. This usually resulted in the nearest object thrown in the oldest sibling's direction.

The most Jake knew about them was that they were definitely not human, and most had innate abilities that were passed down via genetics. Covens were a thing but not a requirement, and most were very secretive as to what they got up to. One thing Jake would never openly admit is when he was out of his depth on something, but he couldn’t just accept defeat like this and twiddle his thumbs until he could get out of town.

Which was why he was sitting in the parking lot of The Tipsy Tumbleweed, staring at the entrance from the drivers side of his shitty rental. He mulled over the vague threat she had given him days prior. She didn’t say he couldn’t come back…just that he couldn’t come back and pull any shit. He could do that. He could just walk in, sit down and be good. He could potentially apologize.

The hunter repeated these affirmations to himself as he walked inside, immediately greeted by the familiar music, the glow of the various neon signs, and the scowl of the owner of the bar he was standing in.

She was behind the bar, writing something in a notebook of hers on the bar top when those big hazel eyes looked up and locked onto him. It took a conscious effort on Jake’s part to not trip over his own feet under her gaze.

He settled on the bar stool directly in front of her without a word, and the two stared at each other wondering who would flinch first. Her hazel irises were all he could focus on, and he took the opportunity to map out the different ways the green blended into light brown.

“Are you going to behave tonight?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

Her right eyebrow slowly raised, “not in my bar there isn’t.”

The hunter nodded at the Witch, falling back into silence.

She reached to her left and brought a low ball glass in front of her on the bar and her other hand grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured about two fingers worth into the glass. It was the same order from that first night, this time untampered with.

“We’re going to try this again, but if you even look at Lou for too long I’ll physically toss you out myself.”

The hunter's eyes swiveled slightly to the right, his peripheral catching sight of the Vampire who was focused on the TV. Jake quickly snapped his eyes back to the bar owner’s,

“Got it,” he replied in an obedient tone that he rarely spoke in.

She nodded and replied, “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some regulars to greet.”

The Witch turned on her heel and walked out from around the bar, passing behind Jake and making her way to one of the two-top tables towards the front of the bar. As she passed, a sweet yet earthy scent wafted around him. Was that her perfume? He pondered. Or was that just her?

He racked his brain as he tore his eyes away from the swing of her hips and turned back to his glass. Whiskey was always his go-to at bars, because no one could truly fuck it up, but in truth, he was a Pinot Noir guy. It started when he was a teenager and the only alcohol he could get his hands on was the wine in the basement. His parents collected bottles from their travels and had so many at this point that they never actually drank that Jake sneaking a bottle or two every so often went unnoticed. He quickly figured out what he liked so by the time he was actually of age it became his private staple.

Jake continued to fire off questions in his head as he outwardly minded his own business.

He was brought back to reality when a familiar young voice answered, “her name is Cecilia, by the way.”

Jake looked up and saw the young bartender named Stacey standing in front of him.

“How did you-”

Her eyes went wide once again, just like that first night, “oh shit I’m so sorry! Sometimes it's hard to differentiate people’s inner voices from their outer voices and it sounds like someone asked me something out loud and-”

Jake raised his hands slightly off the bar, palms facing outwards to show he wasn’t mad, “hey, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s ok.”

Her face relaxed slightly, but she was still clearly embarrassed, “Cecilia’s been helping me get better at it but I still fuck up some times.”

Jake looked at her with warm eyes, “I’m assuming that you heard me thinking about him,” he cocked his head in Lou’s direction, “and went off and told her the other night?”

She looked down at the bar top and fiddled with her fingers, “yeah…we’ve just never had any trouble in here before and Lou is just really special to us and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

Stacey kept her voice low, as to not let Lou hear her saying that he was special to her. However, it didn’t work and the Vampire kept facing the TV and he suppressed a small smile while his face turned pink.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I'm not going to mess with him.”

“I guess that truth serum worked,” she looked up, trying not to smile.

Now it was Jake’s turn to look embarrassed, “yeah…yeah it did.”

“Well she’s still letting you sit here so she can’t be too mad still.”

“I’m on thin ice but I promise I’m just here cause I like the place, that's all.”

Stacey looked down and saw that Jake’s glass was empty, “do you want another drink?”

Jake looked down at the glass, but decided to do something different tonight, “do you have a good Pinot here?”

She looked at him blankly, “wine?”

“Yes…”

“Umm…I think we have a few bottles in the back.” She turned and disappeared behind the Employee door.

Jake sat there softly tapping his thumbs on the edge of the bar, inwardly hating that he was making a fuss over something as arbitrary as a drink. It was another reason why he always fell back on his “usual.” He hated being “that guy” in situations.

After a few minutes the young bartender busted through the Employee door and nearly jogged over to Jake’s spot at the bar. It was clear she wasn’t used to using a corkscrew, but after cussing a little under her breath the cork popped from the bottle. She threw Jake a triumphant smile as she poured him a glass.

“Thank you, Stacey,” he said warmly.

“Any time,” she replied before leaving the bar area to ask if anyone else needed refills or new drinks around the bar.

He studied the glass closely, grasping it by the stem and tilting it to the side and then back again to see what kind of legs it had before bringing it to his nose to see what flavors he could pick up. The alcohol itself was pretty strong, but he had had worse. It was medium bodied, with tannins that weren’t too overpowering due to the bright acidity from the-

“Are you detecting the grapes?”

A silky voice startled him and his eyes left the glass to look in front of him. It was Cecilia. His face reddened slightly, again, but her face broke into a smile as she wrote some figures down in the notebook she had placed on the bar.

“Oh umm-”

“Relax, I’m just fucking with you,” her smile stayed fixed on her face and Jake felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense they had been. “You’re the first customer to order any of the wine we have, by the way.”

“I imagine people aren’t really thirsty for wine right off the highway,” the hunter said as he took his first sip. Oh, that’s not too bad, he thought, surprised at the texture and flavor of the wine.

The Witch nodded, “yeah people are more interested in their usual beers or liquor. You know the whole, ‘candy is dandy but liquor is quicker’ mentality.”

The corners of Jake’s mouth almost turned into a smile, “my brother likes to say that a lot.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, “you have a brother?”

Jake nodded, “three, actually. Two are biologically siblings and the other one we all kind of adopted over the years. He’s a good kid.”

She smiled, “oh that’s nice. Are they all hunters too?”

“Only one of them is; Josh.”

“Is he older or-?”

Jake grimaced slightly, “well…older…by five minutes. The other two are younger than me.”

Her lips formed an O, “so you’re a middle child? I can see that with you.”

Had it been anyone else, Jake would’ve gotten offended by that, but he let it slide for Cecilia.

“Only technically.”

“I can’t relate, I just have a little sister, Astrid. Or Ass-strid as I called her growing up.”

At this point they were both smiling softly at each other.

“What’s she like?” Jake asked before taking another sip of wine.

The Witch started to roll her eyes but stopped, “oh she’s the picture perfect Witch my mother always wanted, except that neither one of us inherited Moms psychic abilities. Astrid can enter people’s dreams, which was so fun growing up.” This time Cecilia let herself complete the eyeroll.

Jake’s eyes softened as he looked at her, the question clear in his expression.

“As for me, I do this…,” her eyes swiveled down towards Lou, who was once again minding his own business. His usual glass sat idly as he paid attention to the commercial on the TV, and immediately slid down the bar towards the Witch like a hockey puck, directly into her curled hand.

Lou was unimpressed and let out a short, “hey,” towards her and she sent the glass back, not spilling a drop.

Jake had never seen a telekinetic in person before, and sat there dumbfounded.

“Wow…” was all he could say.

She shrugged, “I can also read Tarot pretty well.”

Something inside the hunter was very interested in it all. Witches were something that weren’t brought up a lot, and when they were it was never in a positive light. He was mainly taught to focus on the Undead more than any other creature.

“...and your mom?”

Cecilia leaned in towards the hunter, closer than she had been before and whispered, “my mom talks to dead people.”

Jake blinked at her.

“She heads a Necromancy coven in Northern California where I grew up,” the Witch leaned back towards her side of the bar, “it's not as exciting as you think.”

He wanted to ask more questions, but the way Cecilia’s expression soured at the mention of her mother gave him enough of a hint to drop that part of the subject.

“How did you end up in Arizona?”

This time, her eyes softened wistfully, “my dad was from here.”

The word ‘was’ stuck out to him.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded, “yeah.”

The two stared at each other, allowing the silence to wash over them. Jake swallowed the last of his wine, and before he could open his mouth another question was thrown his way.

“I just realized I am a terrible bar owner and have been talking to you this whole time without getting your actual name?”

Jake smirked, his eyes staring into hers, and slowly extended his hand over the bar, “Jake Kiszka, hunter of the Undead and at your service.”

The Witch held out her hand and wrapped it around his to shake. The warmth of his skin rippled up her own arm, over her shoulder and down her back, settling at the base of her spine

“I hope you don’t tell your baristas that,” she retorted with a crinkle in her nose, “Cecilia Addington, bar owner with First Born Daughter problems.”

Jake never wanted to let go of her hand. The firm grip of her fingers and the softness of her skin had his head spinning.

He wanted to know if all of her skin was just as soft.

Reluctantly, they both dropped their hands at the same time each taking a second to flex their hands under the bar out of each other's sight.

Jake was the one to speak first, “so how does-“

“No more questions until you buy another drink, Jake.”

The butterflies from sixth grade swarmed in his gut at the sound of her saying his name.

She turned her head and gave Stacey a Look and a nod towards the hunter, before giving Jake one last smile before slinking around the bar to greet a few patrons that had just walked through the door. Jake watched her the whole time, listening to the volume of her voice and appreciating the fact that she was a hugger just like he was. Fuck.

It was going to be a long night.

To be continued….

Morwenna remained silent, her head bowed toward the body of the man she had just taken the life of as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in her routine, a slight disdain appearing on her beautiful features as she wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, even though she knew she would have to find a place to clean herself up, considering that the blood had dripped down her chin and splattered on her clothes.

She hated winter, mainly because the water was so cold that it felt like her bones would freeze beneath her skin, and the fire in the fireplace in her cabin could only warm her to a certain extent without attracting unwanted attention from humans who were too curious for their own good.

The dead man on the floor was not one of those curious people, he just had the misfortune and stupidity to try to chase a woman through the forest on the very day Morwenna had just returned from her trip. The woman had long since fled, clutching the ruined sleeve of her dress and stumbling over her own feet without looking back, surely watched from above by Sethyra, as her wyvern always had a soft spot for creatures with keen survival instincts and the willpower to stay alive in dangerous situations.

The sun seemed a little warmer that day, and Morwenna looked up despite her covered eyes, only to realize that it was almost time for her visit to Nesta and Elain, something that had become less frequent after the younger Archeron had been taken to the other side of the wall about a year ago.

She thinks this description defines women and females very well, and that must be why Sethyra liked the female gender much more than tolerated any man or male.

She knew that the two Archerons no longer needed her protection now that they had returned to their former living conditions, having left the dilapidated cabin where they lived and moved to a larger and safer property. But Morwenna had still shown up once since the two had moved, two days after their father had left to travel to who knows where, just wanting to check out the surroundings and make sure everything was okay there, and both Nesta and Elain invited her in and then asked her to come back again for the middle Archeron's birthday, even if it was just to say “hi.”

She agreed, and a week ago she had traveled in search of a gift for Elain, something simple but that Morwenna knew she would like.

She turned her back on the body, deciding to leave it there for the wolves to devour as they saw fit. It wouldn't hurt anyone else anyway.

The smell of smoke was the first thing she noticed as she got closer and closer to the Archeron property.

She skidded to a halt in front of what had once been a beautiful property of polished marble with an emerald roof, but which had now been reduced to black rubble reeking of ashes and despair. She could smell the fear and dread emanating from the smoke, cataloging without needing to see the corpses of the Archeron's employees, now reduced to lifeless bodies disfigured by fire.

At first, Morwenna told herself that must have been carried there by the wind, perhaps someone had decided to burn wood near the village to warm those who did not have the privilege of a roof over their heads. But the closer she got, the more that thought fell apart, and her steps began to quicken until she was practically running, her hood falling back and the dark cloak covering her body rising as Morwenna gained speed, knowing without looking that Sethyra was keeping pace above her.

Her breath came out shaky, a feeling of fear and anger forming in her stomach as she forced herself to walk through the rubble in search of Nesta and Elain, something she hadn't felt since she was still working for the male who ordered her to dirty her hands so that his could remain clean.

She counted each of the bodies, counted each of the twelve employees who were there, and promised them a dignified burial, even if she had to dig their graves with her own hands.

But that was all there was, twelve corpses of people she didn't know beyond the descriptions given by Nesta and Elain, but no sign of the two girls, and Morwenna didn't know whether she should feel relieved or even more terrified by this realization.

She searched further, looking around for any clue, even if it was just a strand of hair covered in blood or a hand sticking out from somewhere buried in the snow, but there was nothing, no trace that Nesta and Elain had suffered the same fate as the humans who worked for them, even though their scents were still there, albeit faint and mixed with fear, indignation, and something else that Morwenna couldn't identify. A new scent, from someone or something that had been there when it all happened.

Suddenly, she stopped. She stood as still as a statue when she identified something else nearby, something familiar that she felt in her bones and made the magic inside her boil.

Morwenna knew that smell, she would recognize it even if she were blind and deaf or confined to a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean after going mad, and she couldn't help but shudder when cold night mist and cedar overwhelmed her senses as if he were right there in front of her.

But he wasn't, only his scent had remained like a trap waiting to ambush her, and Morwenna could almost feel the cold, familiar sensation of his shadows curling around her wrists to say hello.

It was both a blessing and a curse, because now Morwenna knew where to start looking, but it was also a place she had sworn never to set foot in again, a place whose memories still haunted her even as she tried to forget the marks that had once encircled her neck centuries ago and had been reduced to white scars.

In the sky, Sethyra's roar was loud enough to shake the earth, and on the other side of the Wall, violet and hazel eyes simultaneously looked up as if sensing her inevitable arrival.