The Ripper Diaries
Chapter One
"Do it," whispers Ethan, face contorted in concentration.
"You sure?" I ask, trying to hide my smile. "Are you sure you're ready, Ethan?"
"Yes," he insists angrily. "Y'know, Rupert—,"
"It's Ripper, mate," I tell him, lip curling. No one's called me Rupert in years. That name is dead, like my life before the group, before the Craft. Ethan following me here from Oxford was more than a little irksome.
"Sorry," he says sarcastically. I'm almost shocked to hear someone speak to me this way; everyone inside and out of the group is nearly pissing themselves around me. "Didn't realize you were such a bad ass."
I smile dryly. "For your sake, I hope you learn quickly."
He narrows his eyes and rolls his shoulders. "Whatever. Let's just do this."
I observe as he picks up the thick, musty book with tentative fingers, flipping through it slowly. His face is frozen in a look of defiance, and I almost laugh knowing that behind it lies a crippling fear. If he was wise, he might just think something of that fear. Of course I know, Ethan Rayne is anything but wise.
"Which one should we do, then?" asks Ethan calmly, like he actually knows what he's talking about. What a joke.
"Why don't you decide?" I suggest lightly, not letting the smile creep into my voice.
"Well—I just—I mean, I could—maybe I . . ." he stumbles over his words. I can practically smell the anxiety rolling off of him in waves.
I snatch the Book of Shadows from his hands, chuckling softly, and begin to rifle through it. "Ah," I say, turning the book around so he can read it in the candlelight. "This one looks . . . promising."
I can almost hear the sweat bead itself on his forehead. "I don't know, Rup—er, Ripper—summoning a demon seems—,"
"Ripper," calls a female voice from the previously closed door. "You're not teasing the fresh meat, are you?"
I laugh, "Always."
Carmon bounces over to me, kissing me swiftly on the lips. On her heels are Phil, Dan, and Diedre.
Phil plops down to my right, and Diedre promptly sits on his lap. Dan sits right next to Ethan, and neither looks particularly happy about that fact. Carmon sits so close on my left she's practically perched on my knee. I smile and kiss her neck, and she giggles but shoves me away with her elbows. "Not in front of the group," she whispers, like she actually cares what they see or think.
"Now," I begin. "Rayne here wants to try his luck in black magic."
"You're that kind, then?" asks Phil, temporarily detached from Diedre.
"What kind?" Ethan panics. All the color drains from his face.
"Oh, don't worry about them," reassures Carmon. "They're just picking fun. You were wanting to practice the Craft though, weren't you?"
"Well—yeah—I mean, yes, I did . . ."
"You don't anymore?" questions Dan, cocking an eyebrow.
He hesitates. "I guess . . . Yes, I want to." He raises his shoulders confidently.
"Great!" calls Car, clasping her hands. "And I have the perfect spell."
I'm sure you didn't have to know Car as well as I did to know that smile meant trouble.