Howls and Hexes

CHAPTER 2

The first few days flew by. I mostly stayed in my room when I wasn’t running errands. I had picked up a few things for my room—books, storage baskets, plants—and other things I needed for school. I spent most of my time curled under a throw, reading from my k****e. I liked the classics and had read them many times over. I also decided to restart the blog I had abandoned on Medium. It felt like time to find my voice again.

There was a knock on my door. When I opened it, a woman stood there. She was beautiful. Her skin was tan, and her long, flowing red hair shimmered like fire under the hallway light. Her makeup was flawless—winged eyeliner, sculpted brows, red lips—and she wore high-fashion clothes that looked straight off a runway. I felt like a mouse in jeans and a T-shirt.

“I’m Tessa. I just moved in,” she said with a confident smile. “I was thinking about going out for a drink and thought maybe you could join me. I mean, you’re twenty, right?”

I stared, stunned. This wasn’t a question I was used to. People my age went to bars, sure, but I never had. Social things made me anxious.

“I… sure. That would be nice.”

“Great! Change into something fun. We’ll head out in a bit.”

As she walked away, I blinked. I hadn’t even realized someone else had moved in. But then, I had spent most of my time holed up in bed reading or writing. Books and words were my escape. They had been since I was a kid, especially when I had no friends just my mom.

I changed into some jeans and a black lace top. Jeans helped hide my insecurities—they slimmed down my hips, masked the thighs I hated. I stood in front of my mirror, tugging at the waistband, trying to make it sit right. My hips looked too wide. I’d tried finding bootcut jeans that didn’t hug me like this, but nothing fit right. I hated shopping. I hated how nothing ever flattered me the way it did other girls. I was short, chubby, and awkward. My figure felt like an apology.

My mom used to say I was big and bold. “You have a perfect figure,” she would tell me. “Beautiful hips. Strong curves.” I would smile, try to believe her. But the truth was, I always felt like I was the girl guys didn’t look at twice.

At least my hair was something I loved. My long, straight, white hair fell to the middle of my back. People always assumed I bleached it, but it was natural. Just like my mom’s. She used to dye hers when she was younger but eventually went back to its natural state. “It’s who I am,” she told me. I felt the same. The soft shine, the unique color—I clung to it.

I sat down to do my makeup, keeping it light. Thank God for that online class I took last year. My hands still shook a little as I applied my mascara. I wasn’t used to going out. I wasn’t used to being seen.

I was almost ready , I reached for the necklace that always sat on my nightstand.

On my nineteenth birthday, Mom gave me a necklace a delicate silver chain with a small crescent moon pendant, shaped almost like a sliver of light frozen in time. I remember the moment vividly. We were curled up on the couch together, the room dim, music playing softly in the background. She pulled out a tiny velvet box from her robe pocket and handed it to me with trembling fingers.

“Wear this always, Rayna,” she said. “No matter what happens. No matter where you go. You promise me?”

I laughed a little, confused. “Okay, yeah. It’s pretty.”

But her face had fallen seriously. “It’s not just pretty,” she whispered. “It’s… protective.”

“Protective of what?” I’d asked.

She shook her head and kissed my forehead. “Just promise.”

I nodded. “I promise.”

That was it. She never brought it up again. She died months later, and I never got the full story. But I wore the necklace every day, tucked beneath my shirts like a quiet secret between us. I thought it was just a sentimental heirloom—something she gave me because she knew she wouldn’t be around forever.

But tonight, as I stood in front of the mirror, I noticed something strange. The moon pendant shimmered not just from the light in the room but from something beneath its surface. It was like tiny specks of silver swirled inside it, glowing faintly like embers in a dying fire.

I leaned closer to the mirror, brushing my fingers against it. It wasn’t warm exactly, but it buzzed—just slightly, like static. My brows furrowed. I tilted it back and forth. Nothing. Just a trick of the light? I sighed and tried to shake it off. I’d had a weird vision earlier. Maybe my brain was playing tricks on me now too.

Still, a chill slid down my spine. I pressed the pendant against my chest, grounding myself. “You’re overthinking,” I whispered. “It’s just a necklace.”

Just in time, Tessa knocked again. .

I turned to answer the door, but as my hand touched the doorknob, the necklace pulsed again—harder this time, like a warning. The sensation jolted through my chest and spread outward like ripples in water. I froze.

I glanced down. The moon pendant was glowing faintly again, the silver inside swirling faster now. I held it up, my heart racing. Was this real? Was it… reacting to something?

A knock came again—sharper this time. I quickly tucked the necklace beneath my top and opened the door.

“You look hot.”

I gave her a stiff smile, unsure how to take it. No one ever called me that. I wasn’t hot. I was safe. Friendly. Forgettable.

Just as she stepped forward, something odd happened.

My breath caught not because of her beauty, but because the moment I opened the door, the necklace throbbed again against my skin

It wasn’t painful. Not quite. But it was uncomfortable. Like something inside it was vibrating—shifting in the presence of something else.

Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment, and I swear—just for a second—her pupils looked… sharper. Not human. Almost red like . But when I blinked, her face was back to normal, the same confident, glowing woman like it was no big deal.

Something was off.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get going.”

I followed her downstairs, but I couldn’t stop touching the pendant hidden beneath my shirt. For the first time since Mom gave it to me, it didn’t feel like just a keepsake. It felt like it was alive. Like it knew something I didn’t.

“I was thinking we could grab a bite and then hit a bar?”

“Sure.” I tried to sound casual.

We got into her car—a brand-new red Mercedes parked next to my beaten-up Camry. Everything about her screamed money. From her designer bag to her sleek red nails to the expensive perfume that filled the vehicle. I couldn’t understand why someone like her would live in a shared house.

We drove in silence until she asked, “So, where are you from?”

“Mexico.”

“Nice. I’m from upstate New York. I didn’t think the mountains here would be so pretty. I see why they call them smoky.”

I just nodded.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just… I’m not around people much. And I guess I’m wondering why you’re so friendly.”

She laughed. “My mom says I love people. Besides, we live together now. It makes sense to be friends. I hate awkward house dynamics.”

That made sense, I supposed.

“So what are you in the mood for? Pizza? Burgers? Lasagna?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Lasagna it is.”

As she drove, I glanced at her effortlessly pretty profile and felt a pang. I wanted to be like that—free, confident. Instead, I clung to my silence like armor.

Over lasagna at a cozy local restaurant, she talked. She was majoring in history and human relations. “I like knowing how people worked in the past. It helps me understand how they work now.”

I told her I was studying botany and had transferred to Angelo State university after doing my first two years online.

“You like plants?” she asked.

“I love them. I’ve got a bunch in my room.”

“Cool. I’d love to see them sometime.”

We chatted more—about school, our housemates, and favorite foods. She talked easily, like she’d known me forever. I listened, unsure how to react.

We eventually ended up at a bar. As we approached the door, I paused. Just above the wooden frame, I swore I saw a faint mark glowing like a rune—three intersecting crescents and a drop of blood.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. It was gone.

“What’s wrong?” Tessa asked.

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Inside, the bar buzzed with music and low chatter. There was a dance floor, a small band setting up, and tall tables scattered throughout. The smell of beer, sweat, and something sharp hung in the air.

As I stepped further in, a soft whisper tickled my ear.

“The blood remembers…”

I whipped my head around. No one was near me. Tessa was already heading to the bar.

What the hell?

She turned to me. “What do you want to drink?”

“I… I don’t really know. I haven’t had much.”

She smiled. “Let’s do shots. Tequila. Then beer.”

She handed her card over before I could protest.

“Rayna, tonight is on me.”

I hesitated, then smiled. “Thank you.”

“To our new friendship,” she said, raising her glass.

We clinked, and I downed the shot. It burned all the way down. I winced, making her laugh.

“Not a big drinker, huh?”

“Not… tequila, no.”

We moved to a table. All the seats were taken, but Tessa just grabbed two.

“Tessa, people—”

“It’s a bar, Rayna. People will survive.”

She was right. The band started playing. I sipped my beer, watching the crowd. After a few drinks, the room started to blur at the edges. I relaxed. Laughed even.

Then I heard the song.

“Down, down, down the road, down the witches’ road—where fire signs and secrets bleed…”

The melody slithered into my bones. My body swayed. I blinked—and saw them.

The red-haired women. Hooded. Eyes glowing.

I blinked again. They were gone.

My heart thudded. I felt it—that sense again. Being watched.

I turned and saw him.

He sat in a booth, leaned back like he owned the place. His dark blond hair tousled like he hadn’t tried too hard, a tattoo curled up his neck. His eyes—were a piercing amber that seemed to glow under the lights. He didn’t blink. He just… looked at me.

I couldn’t breathe. Goosebumps crawled up my arms, at that moment I saw a bulb flicker like a strange connection had awoken.

He was beautiful. Unreal.

I didn’t even notice Tessa talking until she said my name. I snapped my eyes away.

“Go grab another round?”

I nodded.

At the bar, I placed our order. As I waited, I smelled something—raspberries and the scent of fallen leaves. Earthy. Real. Then… lilies. My favorite flower.

A voice behind me: “What are you drinking?”

I turned. And there he was.

Up close, he was worse. No one should look like that. Tattooed arms, chiseled jaw, a short beard framing his mouth perfectly. His voice was smooth, deep.

“I was getting beer and tequila,” I said, barely managing it.

He glanced at the table. Then turned to the bartender. “Pete, send another round to the redhead’s table—whatever they’ve been drinking. And a house beer here for? “ Rayna.”

He looked at me again. “Rayna.”

“I’m Zac,” he said.

“I’m… yeah. Rayna.”

I loved how his name sounded. I wanted to say it again. And again.

Just as I reached for the beer Zac had ordered for me, our fingers brushed.

My vision blurred, and before I could blink—before I could breathe—the world around me shattered like glass.

I wasn’t in the bar anymore.

I stood in the middle of a dense, fog-drenched forest. The trees towered high above me . All around me, red-robed women stood in a wide circle—hooded, faceless, chanting in a language I didn’t understand but felt deep in my bones.

On the altar… were creatures, I couldn't tell what they were

Three of them. Naked, raw, bloodied, and barely alive. Their wrists and ankles were bound by silver chains, their eyes dim, lips trembling as if praying for mercy. But none came.

Then I saw Zac.

He hung from a blackened tree behind the altar. His ribs heaved with every breath. He was still alive—but just barely.

A woman stepped forward. She raised a blade—long and jagged like it had been carved from bone—and placed it against Zac’s throat.

He looked at me with scary eyes . And then she looked too—straight into my eyes.

“You cannot run from blood,” she whispered. “You will choose, Rayna.”

I gasped—violently, like I’d broken the surface of deep water. The bar was back. The lights, the music, the noise.

My hand trembled as I grabbed the beer.

Zac’s brows furrowed in concern. “Hey… you okay?”

I forced a laugh, blinking quickly. “Yeah. Sorry. The tequila’s hitting harder than I expected.”

But then, A voice came up in my head:

He would never want someone like you.

I stiffened.

Next to him, I looked soft. Fragile. Awkward.

Girls like me don’t get guys like him anyway. I clutched the drink like a lifeline.

“Thanks for the drink,” I mumbled.

His amber eyes studied me. Not in a creepy way. More like he saw too much.