Blood Oath

Chapter 9: When The Beast Bled

“There’s Wolfsbane in her system, but not enough to keep a wolf like her out for too long...”

“Why?”

“We can’t let you hurt anyone else.”

These fragmented conversations ricocheted to and fro Skylar’s mind, each echoing with more intensity than the last, leaving behind not even a vestige of sanity as she jerked awake, examining every corner of the room.

Sprawled on the cold floor, it dawned on her that she was no longer in the apartment, being confronted by the unlikely duo of her college professor and Jackson, his accomplice.

Her situation was far more severe now that she was trapped in a prehistoric basement designed to stiffen air itself, with not a window in sight, but fortified chains draping from the walls. This terrifyingly chilling basement was whips, daggers and other pain-inflicting devices away from being a torture chamber.

A nose-wrinkling stench hung in the air. An invisible mist that slithered into her senses, seizing her strength with every foul breath. Her head became heavy, swaying from side to side as she moaned, suffering from a distorted collision of delusion and reality.

“If you’re wondering what that smell is, it’s not just an odor. It’s Wolfsbane, and it can kill you.”

‘Wolfsbane? That word again.’ She started drifting into a mental web of chaos.

Almost surrendering to the madness of her mind, she shifted her attention to what was most important at that time.

The person who had just spoken.

With one reactive flinch, she whipped her head to the side, then became rooted to the spot.

There, sat in the shadows of the eerie basement, was a figure whose presence crashed into her with a storm of relief and familiarity.

A breath caught in her throat. Her heart thudded once and then paused. She blinked, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Because it couldn’t be her.

Could it?

° ° ° ° °

Earlier that night, just after sunset, Ava had been warming one of Mortimer Park’s benches for over ten minutes. Perched there, her stomach churned uneasily, but it was battling a heart of stone.

Beneath the surface, and deeper still, plunging past every layer of her being, lay a heart. And deep within its stone-cold exterior, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be there.

Her place was in her dorm. But tonight, she chose nonchalance, chasing yet another drunken night with one of the town’s resident Casanovas. An unmotivated college dropout, she met at the frat party where Skylar encountered Anna Fisher.

He made appearances at college parties for nostalgia’s sake, somehow managing to keep an unfeeling Ava drawn to him.

How he did it was a mystery; one that could keep rocket scientists tossing through the night, hunting for the formula that made their fling last longer than a night.

My jacket on your backside looks super hot.. might let you keep it ;⁠-⁠)

The text beeped on her phone.

He was certainly a smooth talker, flirtatiously complimenting how his jacket looked on her.

Receiving the message, she stood to her full height, walking to the man barely a breath behind her. The streetlight kissed his dark skin, illuminating his face with a ray of soft, golden light.

“You made it!” She voiced with a smile, trying not to sound too excited.

In seconds, there was no space between them, as she pressed her lips to his in a heated kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands were placed on both sides of her hips. They were lost in each other as time itself seemed to stop.

But she knew better. He was bound to be nothing more than a flame. One that would die out as quickly as it burned.

“C’mon.” She broke the kiss before it could have led to anything deeper.

Hand in hand, they walked to O’Reilly’s Bar just across the park. Ava, ever frightfully conscious of her surroundings, missed no sight, scent, or sound. It was both a blessing and a curse, an inevitable part of being the beast she was.

Her heightened senses had already perceived him: a boy around her age, likely of Asian descent. Jackson. But to her, he was a suspicious stranger, one who’d lingered at the park’s edge long after others had come and gone. Now, as she and her lover sauntered into the packed bar, so did he.

His movements were deliberate. He wanted her attention.

Now he had it.

And she hoped he lived to regret it.

“I’ll go get our drinks.” She informed her lover, heading toward the approaching waiter—the same one who’d served her last time with Skylar.

She peeled off her leather jacket and shoved it at the waiter out of habit. The dark-haired man blinked, looking at her in baffled silence.

“Take this to the guy at the table I just left, and tell him it’s over between us, and it’s not me, it’s him.” She instructed.

She pulled out a 10-dollar bill, ignoring the waiter’s lethargic gaze as she continued, “He may need something stronger than a Margarita. This should cover it.”

“So you’re cheap and heartless. Delightful.” He spoke sarcastically.

“Grumpiness isn’t a good look on you.” She squeezed his bare bicep with a sly remark. When he ignored her, she darted into the kitchen, traveling to the backdoor.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are ya now? Got yourself sacked... twice, didn’t ya?” A random worker stopped her, speaking with a thick Irish accent, and a lit cigarette between her fingers.

“And you’re not supposed to be smoking in here. So, I guess we’re both doing things we’re not supposed to be doing.”

“Well, I’ll give ya that one.” She shrugged at Ava’s retort and then left, allowing her to slip out.

Outside, Ava grabbed the lid off the trash can and stepped back from the door, trash littered on the path to the dumpster.

Despite her discomfort, she waited there, expecting her stalker to burst through the door in a matter of seconds.

Right on cue, Jackson burst out, charging past—clueless she was behind him. He paused, examining his everywhere. And then… their eyes locked.

“You ruined Margarita Monday, you know.” Her voice left no room for humor.

“Who are you?” She shot, already irritated.

Adjusting his posture, he finally uttered a sentence, “That’s irrelevant.”

“Who sent you then?” She asked a second time.

“That’s also irrelevant.”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. Why are you following me?” Ava’s patience was now as thin as a strand of hair; her eyes, hazel and hard, dangerous wrath glinting in them.

“It’s about Skylar, Selene’s—...” He started to speak, but was cut off when Ava threw the trash can’s lid at him.

The lid flew through the air. He caught it—barely. But her kick? That landed hard on his unprotected abdomen.

He staggered back. She pounced.

Punches flew. He evaded some and blocked most, but not all. Grabbing her arm, he twisted it behind her, only for his face to collide with her head as she knocked his knee inward. He stumbled.

Still, she wasn’t done with the abuse.

While she approached him again, he shoved her into the wall just as a male worker appeared outside with a bag of trash to rid. Silently, they froze in silence against the bar’s wall; her hand shushing his mouth, his doing the same to hers.

The second the door shut, her foot collided with his knee. A leg sweep followed, and then a headbutt, causing him to hit the ground.

At that moment, he reached for something in his jacket. Then, she snatched the lid and bashed his skull against it, and an injection rolled free from his grip.

They froze, eyes focused on each other. He broke the stare, crawling towards the injection. And in an instant, she ruthlessly kicked his face away.

Smiling mischievously, she picked the injection up and crushed it in her palm. The sizzling liquid burned her skin, emitting vapor and leaving red scalds where it spilled.

“You’re one of them!” She growled, eyes glowing gold.

Violently grabbed him by the collar, she hurled him into a barricade fence just beside the bar.

“That’s twice today,” He grunted. “Look, I just came to talk to you.”

“Let’s see if you can talk to these hands.” She was livid, claws forming where her fingernails used to be.

Jackson suddenly hollered, “Shawn, don’t! We need her alive!”

Looking ahead, Ava saw a dark-skinned man in a police uniform. In his hand was a gun with a silencer facing her.

His expression was unwavering. No look of cowardice in his eyes.

But Ava was foolishly fearless.

“Yeah, Shawn. Don’t.” She taunted him, smirking arrogantly.

Without hesitation, she lunged for Jackson for protection.

Then one gunshot came.

And another.

As the final one tore through the air, Ava collapsed, blood already pooling beneath her.

A hollow stillness clouded her gaze as shadows consumed the world around her.