Vīgintī quīnque

-Oakley-

The mirror in the bathroom weeps as I brush the condensation from its surface in the still-steamy bathroom. After my run this morning, I took a hot shower– like, center of the sun hot. Years of hunting witches have done a number on my body. Now you can follow the scars like a roadmap through my deepest and darkest secrets.

When I was a kid I always thought that adults were being facetious when they spoke about how they could feel the weather in their joints. Despite my enhanced healing abilities, I can feel the changes of the early fall weather in every inch of my body and I was able to tell the moment the first leaf hit the ground. It's going to be a long autumn.

Wrapping a towel around my slender waist, I am struck by the sound of a feminine voice stifled by the bathroom door as it rumbles through the house. I hustle across the hallway before tucking into my own room and throwing on a pair of wrinkled jeans from my bedroom floor without taking time to smooth them out.

I crack my door, listening quietly until I am able to hear a few different voices echoing up the stairway to the second level where my bedroom resides. One voice, in particular, brings with it a rush of memories that I wish I could forget, knocking the air from my lungs in a thick woosh.

Fuck.

The smell of bacon wafts through the air and I find my way down the stairs. Each step is tentative, unsure. When I step off the last stair and into the kitchen, her grey eyes find me immediately. Her long midnight curls framed a warm smile that sailors would run to their death for before even hearing her sing. It only takes a moment before looks at me like she didn't rip my heart from my chest only two short years ago and I can feel my chest tense as though no time had passed since that fateful day.

I clear my throat. "Cam," I say by way of acknowledgment, holding my face in a mask of indifference as I cross the kitchen. I pretend not to notice her eyes greedily roving over my bare chest and abs. Part of me even likes it. I know I look a lot better since the last time she saw me shirtless.

"Hey Oak," her smoky voice rasps, seductively even though that isn't her intention. Or perhaps it is. When I turn to give her a tight smile I can see the heat in her eyes. I look past her to see her brother Denton sipping coffee in pajama pants like he was just woken up. What the fuck am I missing?

"What brings you two to Salem?" I say as I wander over to the range where Branson is grilling up bacon and eggs. I know he doesn't have an adult job to keep up appearances or anything, but I do have to be at school in a couple of hours if I hope to graduate for the fourth time.

Denton sets his coffee cup on the top of the kitchen island and folds his arms across his chest. "Well, we finished our assignment early. Thought that maybe we could come up and give you guys a hand with yours. I hear you guys are establishing a foothold here in Salem. Maybe we can help with that."

I swallow hard before turning to face them once more, taking the time to chew through the piece of bacon I had snagged from the plate on the countertop. "I think we've got it under control just fine."

Branson turns his head to me. "Well, yeah, we do, but The Guild wants us to build a chapter here-- or at least that seems to be what they're leaning towards. If that's the case we're going to need more than just you and I in order to accomplish that."

My mind wanders to Sunday at the insinuation. I know firsthand how devastating Cam and Denton can be to a sup population in any given city, and I have a hard time believing that Sunday is the only witch in Salem. I'm almost positive at least one of her friends is, too. While Salem isn't the small town it once was, a large population suddenly dropping dead is going to raise a few eyebrows and turn heads we don't want to look in our direction. In the human world, murder is still illegal.

"Cool. I gotta get ready to head to school," I say before heading back to the stairs, making it halfway to my bedroom before I hear a chair skidding across the hardwood floor downstairs.

"Oak, wait," Cameron rasps taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with me. I stop dead in my tracks before turning to face her, unable to keep my ire from my expression. Standing just inside my room, I block her entrance, not inviting her in.

"Are you mad at me?" she asks-- her expression one of genuine concern and confusion.

I take a moment to roll my answer around in my mouth, tasting it for honesty. "No," I say, and it's the truth. I'm not mad at her. I just don't want anything to do with her. She may look and smell like the first rain in the springtime, but I know better. She's the devastation of a category-five hurricane.

We spent years training together when we were younger. Both of our families tended to travel together within the guild, taking on assignments together- or at least in the same general quadrant of the country. We made our first kill together. I had my first kiss with her. My first fuck. My first love. But, as the life often does, it hardened her early on in her career. She became a shell of the girl I grew up with. Beneath her soft exterior lies the heart of a monster.

"Okay. Are you sure? Because you look mad."

I cock my head to the side. "What do you want, Cam?"

She shrugs. "Well, I'm going to register at Hunter's Woods, so I was hoping we could be friends. You could introduce me to some people. I want shit to be normal between us."

After a monumental effort, I manage to let the tension vacate my jaw and collect myself enough to relax my face. Grabbing my door gently with my left hand, I let my eyes fall to my feet as I gather strength. This is the worst possible thing that could happen.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

A soft smile spreads across her face showing me a glimpse of the girl she used to be. "Cool. My brother and I are going to try to get a place so we should be out of your hair by tonight. We just got in so late last night that we crashed on the sofa downstairs. Will you give me a ride tomorrow? I saw you still have your ride parked out front."

I nod. "Sounds good. Let me know where to pick you up and I'll be there."

She gives me a friendly nod while I let the door close, the latch clicking together in soft finality while I suppress the urge to punch my fist through the wall. Hiding Sunday from Branson is one thing. At the end of the day, he's still my brother. I know he would stand behind me if it came down to it. But the rest of the guild isn't my blood. They aren't my family. They aren't even my friends. Their loyalty will always be to The Guild first and foremost.

Denton and Cameron blowing into town couldn't come at a worse time. I still haven't figured out exactly what we're dealing with here, magically speaking. I do know that there's more to Sunday than a little hocus pocus. She's a beautiful woman and a complex soul. She's a high school girl who just lost her father. I can't deny that the power she possesses concerns me, but I can't imagine her going off the deep end and hurting anyone. That's just not who she is as a person.

The last time I saw Cameron, she was riding my best friend's cock at a guild party. Think the chaos of an office Christmas party minus the tinsel and carols. Our job comes with a certain amount of stress, so when we let loose amongst our peers, anything goes. That doesn't mean that seeing the woman I was in love with fucking someone else without a single care in the world was something I was prepared for. It's something I still don't think I've healed from, to be honest. I haven't given anyone else my heart since that day.

Truth be told, I should have seen it coming. Cam had been getting darker and darker. When we slay witches and demons, the goal is just to execute and move on. It's a job and one that we do well. I started noticing darkness blooming with her when that was no longer enough for her. She was torturing her targets. Killing entire families. It was almost as though her first kill awoke within her a blood lust that is unable to be sated. Last I saw her, she was completely off the rails, and the fact that she didn't see any need to apologize to me when she turned up on my doorstep tells me that she doesn't think there was anything wrong with what she did. The last thing I want is for her to go anywhere near Sunday.

Changing into some clean clothes, I hurry and grab my backpack and gym bag before heading out, giving a hasty wave to our guests still tucked around the kitchen island as I make a hasty exit to my car.

I have no idea how I'm going to protect Sunday from Cam, but I'm going to need to figure it out quickly. The rules of this game just changed.