Grabbing Sarah’s wrist and applying a little force, I dragged her from the room. She could barely contain herself.
“That was awesome!” she exclaimed, as soon as we were in the hallway.
“He’s not that cool,” I replied. “He leaves towels on the floor after the shower and plates of food lying around. He also forgets to pick up lettuce every time he grocery shops.”
“Can I join you two on your dinner date? I don’t mind being a third wheel!”
“No!” I giggled, shaking my head. “But if you unpack fast enough, I’ll take you out shopping. There’s a bunch of stuff you need to see that they only sell around here. Or we can go to a movie tonight. After dark. After Liam… ya know.”
She nodded, grabbing her suitcase again as I fit the key in the lock, and swung open her door. Identical to mine, with the makeup mirror and small dance floor, Sarah gasped.
“This is going to be amazing!”
I watched my best friend explore her room. I felt ecstatic. The final piece of the puzzle was in place. I was finally home.
Chapter 4: Liam
I had thought that I felt something odd when I shook Sarah’s hand, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Whatever it was, it was weak, untrained and unfocused. Judging by the way she dressed and what seemed like a strategic placing of piercings, I wondered if she was a witch, untrained and unknown. Witches were a lot more frequent than people realized, their bloodlines and powers easily transferred to other bodies. There had been fifteen original Witch families when they came into power nearly 2000 years ago, and God knows how many descendants since then.
I didn’t think this girl was out to do me any harm, however. Amy had known her half her life, and although she knew all about me and my kind, thanks to Amy, she had never been curious. Amy had told me she was mostly disbelieving, and it had taken a lot of convincing, so unless the girl was an actress all the time, even to her best friend, then she wasn’t aware she was a witch. We had a few of them at the school, diluted bloodlines of pupils who weren’t even aware of it. There was one in second grade, training to be a dancer, who didn’t know it was her powers that were making her jump higher than any of the other kids in her class. I didn’t feel the need to tell her. If the little girl could go through life blissfully unaware of a mythical existence, it would probably be for the better.
And so I forgot all about it, until the first week of classes. One of my dance teachers called me at 6 am, just as I was coming out of transformation, and begged me for a sick day. Without a substitute at the last minute, I moved some meetings around to be available to teach. It was an open dance class, meant for senior non-dancers who were taking it as part of a performance major. Amy and Sarah were both a part of the class, and when I texted my girlfriend in the morning, she texted back a smiley face and exclamation marks. Minutes later, a picture text arrived.
Opening it, my eyes nearly fell out of my head. It was Amy, clearly taken just a few seconds ago. She was wearing a dance leotard that I knew was not her own, fashionably shredded in the back, her hand on her hip and her body arched. She had clearly run next door to Sarah’s room, not that I was complaining. She looked stunning, every curve emphasized. Managing to pick my jaw off the ground, I sent her a quick message.
What would you wear if I wasn’t teaching?
A few minutes passed and then my phone beeped again. Amy in an oversized tee-shirt that came down to her knees.
I laughed, sending her back Love you. Despite barely returning to my human form, she always knew how to make me feel wonderful.
The dance class was the last class of the day, and with winter coming, darkness fell early. I had already planned to end the class fifteen minutes early, just in case I needed extra time to get out safely. But, as the day went on, the sun became obscured by rain clouds and the day grew grey and depressing. While it wasn’t true darkness my transformation would still be on time, as predicted. I always found dark days harder to deal with. I could often feel the twitch of the fangs in my mouth or the faint lust for blood. Nothing was terribly distracting, but it was there all day and it started to wear on me by day’s end.
When the time came, I made my way to the dance studio, already cursing the offending teacher for being late. I could dance, but it was more Broadway style than proper ballet. She had sent me a lesson plan that would be a group dance scene for Phantom of the Opera that everyone should know, whether they were cast as a lead or a chorus member. So I decided to show a video on the projector for the class.