More Than Just A Mate

Oriana ran until her legs began to grow weak. The wolves weren't giving up. Their drool splattered all over the place. Their eyes glowed a fiery yellow. They needed her blood. "I'm sorry," she shouted to them in pleading, but they weren't listening. "I didn't mean to do it!" She kept crying, but it fell on deaf ears. She saw a warehouse and ran towards it, but the owner quickly shut the door in her face, cursing her, "I knew this would happen one day! Die your death, you freak!" The tears flowed freely as she ran on. The wolves, knowing they had won the battle, slowed down. Humans were not meant to see the werewolves, but Oriana, being a weird human, could see them. She reached a wall and turned to face her attackers. It was getting darker and the aisle was narrow and deserted. "Where else do you have to run, you bastard?" one of the wolves asked, gradually changing back to a human. It was a young lady of Oriana's age. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do what I did," Oriana pleaded. She fell to her knees, hands clasped together, tears streaming. "I want you to do it again," the other wolf said. Oriana thought she was joking. "What?" "I said, do it again! I want to see how you do it. You're a human, right? Then how did you do that?" "I don't know. I just feel it bursting through my body." "Then do it again. What trigger do you need?" Oriana had a short temper. Especially when she was afraid. And whenever she got angry, it happened. "You don't want to see it again, please," she pleaded again. "I don't want any trouble with you wolves." "Sis, attack her!" the first girl commanded the other. Instantly, the girl shifted to her wolf and jumped onto Oriana. Oriana shut her eyes and waited for the pain. For her death. But there was silence. Then came the yelping of the wolf. When Oriana opened her eyes, the two girls were scampering away. Over their heads hovered a thick swarm of bees. "Get in here before it stings you!" a voice shouted from a small door. Oriana staggered to her feet. With her hands over her head, she ran towards the door. In she went, and the door closed behind her. The first thing to hit her was the stench. That room reeked of death! Then there was the darkness. A thick dark curtain that robbed her of every sight. She tried to find who had just called her into the house, but all was too dark. "Hello?" she whispered. "Who's here, please?" There was silence. Then came footsteps, stepping on something that sounded like dried bones. Where on earth have I entered? Oriana thought. Her hands reached back for the door. It was better to die in the open, where her body would be carried to a graveyard, than in an unknown devil's room. But to her horror, there was no door anymore. Just an endless wall. "Is this how you say thank you?!" the voice boomed again. This time right next to her face. Oriana shouted and leaped to her feet. Her head banged on something metallic and she fell back down, dizzy. "Please, do not hurt me," she begged, amazed at the mess she had just gotten in now. A deep pain was rising in her chest. This was getting too much. Why couldn't death just come and take her away? How long would she bear this life of being a street dung? "I promise to do anything. But please spare my life." "What is your name?" "Oriana." "That's a strange name. Greek. How old are you? "Twenty." "Where are your parents?" Oriana tried to answer immediately, but the words got stuck in her throat. "Dead," she finally said. "You killed them?" Oriana was quiet. She was sure she hadn't killed her parents ten years ago. But with this question, she was confused. Maybe it was really her who caused their death. "You are a pathetic young woman," the woman continued. "But I see how beautiful you really are." Her rough fingers began to pry around Oriana's face, opening her mouth, touching her tongue. "You've got perfect teeth. Let's see. No vampire teeth. Large eyes. Dark hair. My! That's some beauty there!" Oriana never thought she was beautiful. Out there in the dark slums, there were no mirrors. "Why were you being chased?" "I... I broke... I blew up their bike tyres." "You're really a troublesome one." Oriana didn't know how to tell this strange woman that she blew up their tyres with just her eyes. How would she explain that there was a strange energy that coursed through her anytime she felt threatened or very angry? "Now, enough of that!" the woman screamed. And suddenly a light came up and Oriana saw her face. "Good heavens," Oriana muttered at the sight. Standing — or rather stooping — before her was the most hideous old hag she had ever seen. The woman had wrinkles the size of drought cracks. Her fingers were black and were dripping with a liquid Oriana didn't know. Oriana suddenly felt like throwing up. The hag was dressed in rags. And her room was one hell of a place. Several woods were strewn about, a pot was boiling over a fire. Oriana immediately knew who she was. "You find me ugly?" the witch shouted, eyes blazing. "No, no, of course not. I think you're beautiful." A treacherous chuckle escaped Oriana's lips. The witch grabbed a stick and smacked her head with it. "Is this the thanks I get? Now, you shall be my slave forever! Clean this place up!" "What?" A lump rose in Oriana's throat. "Slave?" Had she just jumped from the pan to fire? But she rose to her feet and began to clean the room. A woman who could call down bees could do even worse things.