Bound: A Supernatural Story ✔️

TWO

Holly waited a couple of minutes, painstakingly counting them out in her head.

She sensed nothing, now that the men had passed her. The only thing she felt was the bar against her knees and her nails digging into the skin of her arms.

She let out a breath and slowly slid around, letting her feet touch the floor. Every instinct was telling her to run, to get out of the bar and get into her car and drive. She visualized the door of her apartment, and saw nothing. There was nothing waiting for her at home.

Get out. Leaving a tip for Randy underneath her drink, she paced across the room, not looking around. The feeling was still curling inside her, ready to unfurl and pounce. She was on edge.

The door opened slightly before her hand touched the handle, and she cursed silently. She had to watch her emotions.

Stepping outside, the cool air felt good on her face.

The men, Holly knew, were not normal, and they were after something. She sensed their trail leading from an old black Impala in the parking lot to where she was standing. They were on the hunt.

Is that what they were? Hunters? Her throat was dry as she tried to swallow nervously. I'm so fucked.

Hunters didn't really have good relationships with witches.

No one has good relationships with witches, she told herself, crossing the parking lot to her car, which started at her touch. She thought of Randy. Except for middle-aged bartenders.

She needed to check her drawings.

She slid into her car, holding her trembling fingers over the steering wheel. She turned the radio on without touching it.

Holly's drawings never lied. Being an art student, sketching came naturally to her, and it ran deep within her family's lineage. A couple of her witch ancestors were famous artists, and her parents had encouraged her to draw since she could hold a pencil.

"There is more than meets the eye when a witch draws," her mother had always told her. "It holds the answers you seek."

That explained her amazing grades in school, and the plethora of sketches that covered her apartment walls.

And most recently, she had been drawing two men.

Just shadows, not enough to see their faces. Holly had the feeling if she drew tonight, she would draw those two men she saw in the bar tonight. 

What were they after? Where are they from?

These were the thoughts that crowded her mind as she made her way down the dark-lit street that was surrounded by great hanging oaks. The slivered moon shone a weak light down on the pavement. Holly turned into her building's driveway, keeping note of the cars in the parking lot. None of them looked unfamiliar.

She grabbed her keys and hopped out the door. The night was silent, unlike most normal nights in Savannah, which were usually filled with some form of noise, natural or not. She shivered as she pushed open the door, and entered.

The stairs echoed throughout the silence as she climbed up two stories. Holly reached 201. Home, or at least the best she had right now.

Flicking on a light-switch, her flat was illuminated. A living room sat directly across from the foyer. To the left, her bedroom; to the right was the kitchen. Her parents had left her with a large sum of money to get her through school, enough to live in a place on her own. She swallowed a lump in her throat, forcing thoughts of them away

She tossed her keys on the table and headed to her bedroom, grabbing a pencil on the way. Her room was just a tornado of loose papers, on the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. Some were charcoal, some were paintings, and others were just faint sketches she never got enough feeling to finish. It was a good thing she had no boy to bring back to this mess.

The window beside her bed was open, as it always was most of the time, to let in the cool night air. The breeze usually soothed her thoughts before she went to bed.

Holly changed, brushed her teeth, and hopped onto her comforter, all the while thinking about those two men. Her fingers tingled, and her brain was on overdrive. It wasn't safe for a young witch living alone to be around Hunters. It just wasn't smart.

Hunters, she thought, reaching for her sketchbook, make life so damn difficult.

She flipped on her bedside lamp, and closing her eyes, turned off all the other lights in the house without even moving a finger. This was something that came naturally to all witches. There wasn't any intense spell work involved for such small magic. When it came to complex things, like trying to decipher a lock or code, or physically changing the appearance of something, then it involved more physical movement and speech.

Or, there were always those that could do more.

Holly had never really talked to her parents about her ability. In her family, an outer magic reach was unheard of, and she had heard stories of her kind being labeled as freaks for developing an extra power. When she was twelve, she had discovered she could read people's auras, and track their spirit, without even talking or thinking too hard about it. She would draw premonitions. It just happened. That's how she knew those men were at the bar without knowing who they were, or why they were there.

Her parents didn't even know their daughter's secret before they were killed.

The sound of scratches filled her room as Holly began to sketch on a blank page of paper. Her sketchbook was old and torn, well used. 

On the paper, the face of a man began to take shape. Holly pursed her lips as she filled in the eyes. They needed colour. She quickly held out her hand and a pencil crayon landed in her palm. She flicked her fingers over the paper, and the man's eyes took on a beautiful pale green hue. Better.

The face was rugged, and chiseled. The hair was cut short, and on his face was a slight pout, which Holly found kind of amusing. She filled in a bit of stubble on his cheeks. This man was strikingly handsome, and she turned away from the drawing's gaze. It was as if it were seeing her, for real. She turned the page.

There was that other one, the taller one. She sketched a long face, defined nose, and shaggy brown hair. His eyes were puppy-dog like, his gaze warm, unlike the hardness of the other man's. She drew his shoulders wide, and his cheekbones sharp. He was another handsome guy, looking as if he could see right through her. But instead of anxiousness, she felt warmth. His green gaze was soothing. But concerned. He was looking for something. Searching. 

Holly shut her sketchbook instantly, with a clap. She just knew. They were Hunters.

Fuck, they were Hunters.

She knew she had to stay away from them, and whatever they were after. Never get in the way of a hunt when they have their mind set on killing it. She knew that. Her parents had known that, and yet it couldn't save them.

Her lip trembled, and she bit the tears back.

What could she do? Just wait it out and hope they left town.

She closed her eyes and turned off the light.

Green eyes haunted her dreams.