Wiccan Act One: Occult

23 | Lines on a Map

Dedicated to 

Christian

XXIII

Christian got to his feet, peering down at the bloody and beaten boys beneath him.

Aiden pressed himself against the door frame gasping. Christian's jacket had turned into shreds, claw marks ripping its fabric and Aiden's skin alike. Blood was everywhere. On the other end of the spectrum, Cyrus laid on the cold floor motionless alongside the debris. Gashes on his side caused Christian to panic, the boy's chest stiff and his eyes slammed shut.

He sprinted to his best friend's side instantly.

"Cyrus?" Christian called out.

No answer.

"Cyrus?" He shook the boy, watching his body shake without response. Christian's throat dried, closing in on itself. This can't be happening. He brought his ear over Cyrus' chest awaiting a heartbeat. Instead, a light chuckle met his ears.

"Cyrus, that isn't funny." Christian shoved his now smiling best friend, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

"It is a little funny." Cyrus propped himself up on his elbows. He raised the bottom of his shirt to reveal the tattered flesh underneath. Hints of pink peeked through beside his belly button, except the wound produced no blood. It sluggishly closed itself, no scabbing necessary.

"Does it hurt?" Christian asked.

"Are you kidding? It feels like my skin is stapling itself up. But it's better than nothing." His body slouched, returning to rest his back on the floor. The healing took a lot out of him. Christian breathed a sigh of relief, turning his attention to Aiden.

He wasted no time, sliding over and taking a peek at Aiden's chest.

"Woah- Personal space blondie." He gasped. Christian was too preoccupied with what was before him to pay attention to what he said. Akin to Cyrus, his wounds mended themselves, leaving behind a trail of steam. Aiden's gashes sealed, healing at an impressive rate. Christian couldn't determine if that had to do with their different abilities or the fact that Cyrus sustained more injuries but Aiden was healing much faster than the other boy.

Christian stared for an abnormal amount of time before he caught himself. His upper arm had been wrapped tightly by his detached jacket sleeve while the two were being thrown around. Compared to them, he got off easy, the creature's claws only grazing him while they nearly got ripped apart. Yet, their wounds would heal miles before he did. Unfortunately, they couldn't leave until Cyrus and Aiden recovered. That gave him time to go upstairs.

"What are you doing?" Cyrus questioned, stopping him before he could take his first step. "You have that Christian look on your face."

"What Christian look? I'm simply going to inspect upstairs," he replied.

"You mean where that thing came from?" Aiden gave an exasperated gasp.

"Don't you find it weird that it came through the ceiling? Assuming it was here before we were, that means someone doesn't want us taking a peek upstairs." Christian went solely on instinct.

There was no way whoever killed Aiden's family did it without reason. This entire house breathed mystery. Perhaps that fueled his curiosity to an unhealthy level. The witch proof room and monster for a guard dog were enough to prove that this house had more to it than they were led to believe.

His mind went back to the photograph. The paper had no report of a child so Aiden's brother had to have survived. The police must have kept his identity a secret as a means of protection. His entire family died, which gave them a motive. Except they had no idea of figuring out who his brother was or if he even stayed in Oakwood. Not like they could walk into the station and question the sheriff about it. If he looked into the case, that would lead him straight to Aiden and wondering how a boy he reported dead was up and running years later. That sounded like something written straight out of Stephen King.