Elvira grabbed a jar of shimmering black powder from a kitchen cabinet. She divided it into two empty cups and gave one to me. “Pour this stuff on all the windowsills. Try not to leave any blank spots,” she told me hastily. She started pouring her cup into a neat line in front of the garden door.

I got to work. The powder smelled like a forest, with hints of something burnt. I tried not to breathe it in.

I did all the windows, even the tiny one in the attic, and double checked that I’d gotten everything. Once I got back to the kitchen, my cup empty and my brow sweaty, I found Elvira going through the notepad by the fridge that they usually used for grocery lists and reminders.

“Come here,” she said distractedly.

I walked over to her. Next to the notepad was a Tupperware box filled with some sort of a paste. It was an earthy orange colour with specs of green and red. It smelled so spicy it made my eyes water.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s something Fi made, just in case,” Elvira said. She scooped up some of the goop with two fingers, and with her other hand she pushed my curls back to reveal my forehead. She then proceeded to slowly draw a line on it with the paste, like in the beginning of the Lion King. She muttered something in a foreign language; it sounded like broken Gaelic.

“What’s that for?” I sniffled. I hoped I was allowed to wash it off soon. Don’t get me wrong, I love spicy food, but this stuff was too much.

“It’s, uh… I think it’s to mask our scents or something? I honestly don’t know, Fi just told me how to use it,” Elvira said. She scooped up some more paste and did the same to herself.

I felt a little bit stupid standing there with orange stuff on my forehead and powder on the windowsills. “What now?” I asked.

“We just have to pass the time,” Elvira said. Her voice was good-humoured, but I could tell she was anxious.

“Is everyone else gonna be okay?” I asked, thinking of Charon and Amelia.

“The sirens will be fine, I doubt they’d get bothered. Your uncle called the Highmores, so they know to take precautions,” Elvira explained.

“What did that guy mean? Who’s coming?” I insisted. Elvira sat down on the kitchen tiles tiredly and leaned against the cabinets. I joined her. “You have to give me something.”

“His name is Clayton Cross. He leads a pack of werewolves who have been targeting witches across the country,” she explained.

I made a face. “His name is Clayton?”

“He prefers his last name,” Elvira snorted. “But he is dangerous. He’s been mainly focusing on the East Coast, but they’ve been approaching California for a while now.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

Elvira hesitated. I could tell she wanted to tell me. “That’s something you need to talk to your uncle about,” she decided.

“You know he won’t tell me jack shit,” I pointed out. “Has it got something to do with the prophecy?”

“How do you know about that?” Elvira said quickly, sounding almost startled.

I reluctantly told her about the crow and the dreams. I thought she tensed even more when I told her about Ewart’s phone call with someone. She chuckled when I mentioned Sibyl’s misty cruise ship, which wasn’t an important part of the story but I felt like it needed to be included anyway.

“That old harpy,” she muttered when I was done.

“You know her,” I said. For once, it was a statement, not a question.

“I’ve met her once or twice. I grew up in Chicago,” Elvira said.

“I didn’t know that,” I said. Now that I thought about it, I knew next to nothing about Elvira, especially her past. Hell, I didn’t even know how old she was.

“I’ve heard some of her prophecies. Knowledge of the future… That’s a dangerous thing to have, crow. It can drive you insane. For once in your life, don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Elvira said seriously.

“She said I could save lives if I knew,” I reminded her.

“You could. Or, you could ruin them. You could ruin yours,” Elvira said.

“Have you heard it? The prophecy?”

“Only the beginning, and I’m not repeating it to you.”

I gave up. She didn’t come after me when I went upstairs to the guest room, sat on the bed and took out my journal. I didn’t know what werewolves looked like, so I just sketched a normal wolf. It had black eyes and tangled fur.

Clayton Cross, I jotted down. With a name like that, the guy couldn’t be too intimidating. I drew a balding man with square glasses and a wispy moustache.

I might have imagined it, but I thought I heard howling in the distance. I shook my head; it must’ve been a dog. The moon was waxing, not full.

I thought about Uncle Killian and Fiona, wondered where they were and what they were doing. There was an uneasy feeling in my gut. It was like the night of my fourteenth birthday all over again.

There was a sudden blast of music from downstairs; I recognised it as Twisted Sister. It was so loud I could almost feel the floor shake under me. I stuffed the journal into my backpack and hurried back downstairs.

Elvira was back on her feet in the kitchen, pouring herself a drink. It was a rum and coke, which I recognised because it was the thing she drank whenever she celebrated something.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“When in doubt, have a party,” she explained. She grabbed another glass and made me a drink as well. It had significantly less alcohol than hers; it barely covered the bottom of the glass.

“Cheers,” I said, a bit dumbfounded, and raised my glass. She clinked hers with mine and downed it in one go. I sipped mine while she made herself another one.

Elvira then grabbed two big bowls and filled one of them with chips. She handed me a bag of popcorn to make in the microwave while she went through her candy stash. Fiona didn’t like candy very much, but Elvira had a sweet tooth so there was loads.

We took our drinks and the snacks to the living room. There, Elvira lit another smoke and turned up the music even more. I couldn’t hear myself think, which was probably a good thing that night.

She started jumping to the beat, hair hair bouncing and the rum and coke sloshing in its glass — but surprisingly, not spilling. I joined her; it wasn’t dancing, exactly, but it was fun.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

For a while, I was able to push everything else into the back corner of my mind. All I knew was the booze and smoke smelling blur, my legs aching from jumping but not wanting to stop. One of the windows was cracked open and allowed fresh, cold air into the room.

We screamed the lyrics so loud our throats hurt. I didn’t even remember half of them, so mostly I was shouting nonsense. Whenever I did remember, I sung them ten times louder.

(The kids are back

The kids are back

Oh, watch out

The kids are back)

I didn’t drink enough to be drunk, but I felt intoxicated. The room was spinning and the lyrics of the rock songs on Elvira’s mixtape jumbled in my head, but it didn’t feel like a bad thing. It felt like I was able to let go of everything that bothered me. Lock them away and return to them later.

(Feel my heat

Takin’ you higher

Burn with me

Heaven’s on fire)

I don’t know how long it lasted, but at some point both of us were too tired to go on and we collapsed on the couch. We watched a movie, but it was just colours and flashes on the screen. I don’t remember falling asleep.

—

The sun was rising when I woke up. I was still on the couch, covered with a crocheted blanket, and cool air blew on my face through the window.

There were people talking in the kitchen. I recognised Killian and Fiona’s voices and for a brief second, I wanted to get up and go greet them. Then I realised that this could be my only chance to hear what happened that night.

The voices were quiet, but I focused the best I could.

“Killian, you need to tell him,” Elvira said. “He’s too curious for his own good. If you don’t let him in on these things, he’ll go after them on his own at some point and you know how that’ll end.”

“He’s a child,” Fiona butted in.

“Child or not, he deserves to know before it’s too late,” Elvira hissed.

“Fiona is right. It’s too dangerous — not only for him, but for us,” Killian said.

“He barely knows anything about the world around him!” Elvira said.

“And that’s a good thing! Don’t you wish you knew less?” Fiona said.

“Yes! I wish I wasn’t a part of this mess, but I am and I have a duty to do something about it, not just stand in the sidelines babysitting,” Elvira said heatedly.

“You’re doing your duty by being on the right side,” Killian said.

“What side?” Elvira scoffed. “The one that I have to hide myself from because they’d kill me if they knew what I am? No, Killian. I’m on whatever side that can change things for good, and trust me, it isn’t yours.”

“That’s your plan, then? Turn my own nephew against me?” Killian asked.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Elvira said. She sounded properly angry, now.

“How about we talk about this later?” Fiona suggested. “Quieter.”

Well, there went my plan. I waited a few minutes before I finally got up and went to the kitchen for breakfast, but didn’t mention the conversation I had overheard.

“How did you sleep, crow?” Fiona asked. Killian and her both had steaming cups of tea. They both looked incredibly exhausted, and Killian’s hair was singed at the ends.

“Fine,” I answered. Fiona conjured up tea and a sandwich seemingly out of nowhere for me, and I dug in gratefully. With my mouth full of food, I asked: “Are you gonna tell me what happened last night?”

Killian glanced between Fiona and Elvira like he was trying to decide which one’s side he wanted to take. He gave in and said: “I was doing research in Reno when Elvira called me about the werewolf pack. I hurried over to California to help drive them off.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me,” I said even though I knew he left most of it unsaid.

“What about you? How did last night go?” Fiona inquired.

“We had fun,” I said. If they didn’t want to tell me stuff, they’d have to forget about details as well. Besides, I was sure Elvira had told them everything already.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re safe,” Killian said and smiled. I relaxed a little, and it seemed everyone else followed my lead.

“I’m gonna go work on the bike,” Elvira announced and got up, her own breakfast and coffee left untouched. She squeezed my shoulder lightly on her way out.

“I better go as well. Straight back to work,” Killian sighed. He downed the rest of his tea, said “ta” and got to his feet.

“I think I’ll go see Ames, see how she’s doing,” I said. I had been thinking about calling her, but figured it’d be better to just go straight to Mission District.

“Will you wait just a minute, love? There’s something I want to talk about,” Fiona said before I could get up. Killian was already on his way out.

“Okay,” I said, a little nervous of what was coming.

“How much of our talk did you hear?” she asked once the front door slammed shut.

“What talk?” I answered nonchalantly.

“I know you. We can pretend you didn’t hear anything and forget about the whole thing, but you don’t want that, do you?” Fiona said. She raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea. Her cup had been almost empty earlier, but it had at some point magically refilled itself.

“Not all of it. I heard Elvira was trying to convince you to tell me something every once in a while, which I agree with,” I said.

“Elvira is not who you think she is,” Fiona said. Her voice was quieter, now. “She’s family and we all care about her, but she does not know what she’s talking about.”

“At least she knows how I feel. You never tell her anything, either,” I pointed out.

“And there’s a reason we don’t. It’s not that we don’t trust you two, it’s just that—“

“It’s for our own good,” I finished snidely.

Fiona’s expression softened. “One day, you’ll learn everything you’ve wanted to know and more,” she promised.

“What good does that do for me now?” I asked. “We keep going round in circles. I ask you guys what’s happening, you tell me I can’t know because it’s too dangerous or too complicated. We’ve gone through this since day one.”

“I know it’s exhausting,” Fiona admitted.

“So help me understand,” I pleaded.

Fiona sighed and set her tea down. She rubbed her neck like it was sore. It struck me that Killian hadn’t said anything about being with her when the pack reached California. She had been somewhere else.

“Where were you last night?” I asked.

“Working for the coven,” she said. I was taken aback — I hadn’t expected an actual answer.

“What does that entail?”

“Research, defence, recruiting…” Fiona listed. “It’s interesting work. I think you’d like it, once you’re older.”

I had a feeling I’d never be old enough.

—

After that night, Killian was barely ever home. I didn’t have time to bother with him questions because whenever he was home, he was sleeping. He made me promise not to stay home alone on the nights he was gone; sometimes I went to Amelia’s, sometimes to Elvira and Fiona’s, and sometimes I lied about going to Amelia’s and really went to Charon’s.

The tension reached even the Demetrias household. When we were having dinner one night, Marina told me that they’d been approached by Cross’ pack. Apparently sirens were a valuable asset. They had said no, of course, which hadn’t rubbed Cross the right way. There were deep, long claw marks on their door: a warning.

Charon’s anxiety got worse; Amelia told me that he had to leave class sometimes because he couldn’t breathe. They still weren’t friends, and they still bickered whenever we hung out together, but they tolerated each other for my sake.

We tried hard to figure out what I could be. Amelia researched native creatures of Colombia, where my dad was from, but didn’t come across anything useful. Charon dared to step foot in Dolores Park where most monsters of San Fransisco resided. He didn’t find anything that smelled like me.

He did, however, recognise the lingering stench of death that no humans had noticed. Amelia and I both knew what that meant; Dennis hadn’t been lying in his journal entry. Someone was practicing necromancy in San Fransisco.

“What exactly does that mean? What are they trying to do?” I asked one Monday afternoon when we were at our usual spot at Twin Peaks. There weren’t many weeks of school left before summer. There was a warm breeze that smelled like the sea, and the sun was so bright that Amelia, with her blue eyes, had to wear sunglasses.

“Necromancy is death magic. It has many uses, so we can’t tell for sure,” Amelia said uncomfortably.

“Not to mention anyone can do it. It doesn’t have to be a witch,” Charon added.

“What? Really?” I asked. Amelia looked surprised as well.

Charon shrugged. He said: “Everyone dies. It’s only fair that everyone can do it.”

“I don’t know about fair. It’s unnatural,” Amelia muttered.

“Nothing about magic is unnatural. It is wrong, though,” Charon said.

“So… we have literally no leads,” I said.

“‘Fraid so,” Amelia sighed.

Another summer went by in a flash. We tried to have some fun, even with everything going on. In June, Amelia and I went to our first ever live concert; the Tibetan Freedom Concert. We probably should have started off with something smaller, but we had a good time. Elvira was supposed to be our chaperone, but I think she had more fun than us.

In July, when Killian finally had some free time, he took me, Amelia and Dennis down to Santa Cruz for a few days. Amelia and I pretended to be normal teenagers by the beach, and Dennis and Killian stayed at the hotel and talked about important things.

In August, Charon’s family came back from Greece and he brought us souvenirs. He got me a Mati; a blue eye charm that I attached to my backpack. Amelia got a literal olive branch. I couldn’t tell whether she appreciated it or not.

In September, we celebrated Charon’s birthday. He didn’t want any gifts, so Amelia borrowed her brother’s car and drove us to El Granada and Charon taught me how to surf. Amelia didn’t want to learn after she watched me.

In late October, Charon was invited to another Halloween party. Considering how the previous one had gone, we weren’t sure if we wanted to go. In the end, though, we decided to give it a shot even if it was just to have an excuse to wear costumes.

We should’ve stayed home and watched horror movies.