There's A Circle of Witches

Oh, the dawn won't stop weighing a tonne

HOLY FUCK AM I BACK OR WHAT.

This part 1 of three! BONUS coming soon and smut coming the next chapter!

I'm so sorry for the delays, we just hired more people so I will be more available again!

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Bayou Manchac, "Swamp of the Ghosts"

"Teen wolf!" Alistair stood up smirking in his cell.  He winced feeling the holy water burn his shackled wrists.   His bloodied blue t-shirt clung to his thinning frame. 

Logan made his way into the room slowly, holding back the agonizing pain moving through him.  The biker guarding the holding place sat up from his stool facing the cells.  He sniffed and his eyes flickered a yellow tint.

He sensed death in the air. 

Alistair turned his head slowly to check on his brother.  They were in their own cells with an empty one between them.  Alistair arched his brow, pouting his lips as his eyes searched the bars.  Kid was sitting in the shadows. 

As Alistair began to speak, he smelled a familiar scent.  He furrowed his brows feeling the scent of metal and rust invade his nostrils. 

An image of Stella laying on the ground in the woods, the night they met, flashed before his eyes.  He leaned down watching her back away from him, throwing dirt in his face, but her scent was undeniable.  The smell of death.

"Logan?"  The biker stood up narrowing his eyes towards his leader.  Ruled by the moon, werewolves, like witches, have heightened intuition.  They can sense pain, life, and death of their own kind.

"Logan, you're...". The biker watched on in disbelief. 

Alistair's eyes searched Logan's face as he made his way to the outside of the middle cell between him and Kid.  Logan pressed his lips down into a defeated smile. He leaned forward holding onto the bars and brought his head down, sighing. 

Kid sensed it the second Logan walked in.   He knew Logan was dying.  And he knew now his blood was useless and wouldn't save Stella.

Alistair Looked to this left and watched Kid bring his hands over his head as he sat in his cell. 

Alistair shook his head slowly.  His eyes searched the floor as his mind raced to decipher this sudden revelation.

  "No...". Alistair whispered and his voice cracked. His brows lifted and pulled into a sad expression.  Lines creased across his forehead behind the tousled gelled strands loosely hanging over his eye.  

He saw a memory of him saving Stella from the falling chandelier after angering Tabitha's spirit.  He watched Stella's scared face laying underneath him as he shielded her body.  He recalled his hand behind her head softening her landing and his other hand brushing her hair away from her face to find her eyes.  He caressed her cheek.  "Are you hurt?"  He heard the echo of his memory ask her gently.

He could see and feel the memory clearly, making his eyes well up. He remembered running to her without hesitation.  He knew he needed her to break the curse, but he didn't save her from the falling debris for that reason.  Alistair wanted to protect her from any harm far before he realized he was already falling for her. 

His eyes searched the floor and his brows pulled in sadness knowing he couldn't save her now.  Logan was their only hope.

Logan chuckled in defeat bringing his arms forward as his hands gripped around the bars.  His head hung low gazing down to the ground.  Alistair furrowed his brows watching Logan smile.