2024 Story Collection

Witch & Familiar Mates VIII

"That is an absolute lie," Lala screams. The house shakes as she stands up in a huff. White smoke bellows out from her nose and mouth as she speaks, her eyes a hot furnace filled with flames. He chokes on the smoke as it fills the small cottage.

"I never hurt a child. I only burned alive the adults who stole from my bakery. I never messed with the children. I fed them, took them in, nursed the sick ones back to health even!" she turns away for a moment muttering to herself, "and what I get for all that? I become know as a child killer, humph." She crosses her strong arms over her chest. The smoke turns black as it pours from her nose and mouth.

"You still burned people alive," the words leave him without his permission. He braces himself for her wrath, but it doesn't come. In fact, it seems his words have the opposite effect.

Her arms fall to her sides, and the smoke begins to clear as she takes a deep breath.

"Yes, I did burn them alive," she says as she walks into the kitchen, "but it was a different time. You have to understand that, that was a thousand years before an official punishment for theft was made and it was to chop off the thieves' hands."

He looks down, taking in her words, trying to make sense of the old witch's logic but struggles. Maybe it was normal, but that doesn't make it okay to burn people alive.

"I gave anyone a job who asked for one. Even if I could only pay them in the baked goods, we didn't sell that day," she adds. He looks up at the witch, now understanding.

If she'd taken in anyone who asked for work, it would make sense she detested thieves because all they would have to do was ask for a job and it would be theirs, but instead they chose to steal. It was a different time, but was it different enough to justify their painful deaths?

Who am I to judge?

The memories of that woman who had been beating her baby in that alley came to his mind. He had transformed and killed her before he could even register what was happening.

He stood over the dead woman after he'd shifted back, blood dripping from his hands and body as the unconscious child lay ten feet away, wrapped in his clothes safely tucked behind a box. He hadn't remembered wrapping the child in his clothes and tucking it away; he hadn't remembered ripping open the woman and tearing her limb from limb.

No, but he remembered the look on the police officer's face when he, a ten-year-old boy covered in blood, brought in the beaten baby girl to the police station. He still remembers telling them that the mother had been killed by a large cat. It was true. He just didn't mention that he was the cat.

It still scared him, how he'd blacked out and how the wild thing within had taken over. He could see how a familiar could lose themselves to the beast. He hoped he'd die before he saw himself become such a monster. The thought sends a chill up his spine.

"I guess I have no write to judge," he says, looking out the window to the snow-covered lake, a large cliff face around.

"Eclair?" she offers him a plate with the sweet dessert on it. He looks at it hesitantly, so she adds, "I'm not taking no for an answer, so you might as well eat it."

He does as she says but can't find the words to speak. He doesn't know how she knows but he's grateful for not having to explain tell the story. It was one he preferred never to tell.

"Oh, stop moping." She tells him with a whack on the shoulder. "We're all killers in this family."

"Family?" he asks.

"Yes, you are now a part of our family, whether you like it or not." She crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a look like I dare you to try to convince me otherwise.

"But Sofia is not a killer," he says as he takes a small bite of the eclair, which quickly leads to a second, much larger bite.

"No, my grandmother is right." His head snaps around to find Sofia standing in the doorway. He didn't notice her come in. "I am a killer, too. I burned my grandfather alive as a child when he touched me."

She didn't explain further because she didn't need to. He understood and

"See, we all have our reasons." Grandma says.

"Maybe, but it doesn't always make it right."

"No," Sofia agrees, "but sometimes it is necessary."

He watches her as she walks up to him, her hips swinging as she does so. How does she walk in those? He wonders.

She stops in front of where he sits on the old wooden stool and places one hand on his shoulder. Her other hand comes up to his face and drags a finger over his upper lip to wipe away some of the eclair. He watches her as she takes her finger into her mouth and licks it. His body reacts on its own, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

She pulls back and smiles.

"Eclair?" grandma Lala says and they both jump, having completely forgotten the witch was there. It takes them both a moment to realize she is holding out a plate with two more of the treats on it.

"Um, sorry grandma," Sofia says her face beat red. "I got distracted."

"I expected as much out of soulmates," she says, waving her hand as if dismissing the problem. "You two actually have quite a lot of self control compared to the other soulmates I've known. Those Addams couldn't go five minutes without crawling all over eachother."

To be continued...

January 28, 2024