First chapter!
I hope you guys liked the prologue! I've tried to ensure the following piece is grammatically correct but guys there's only so many times you can read something before it makes no difference, so if you see any errors or issues let me know.
Went a bit overboard with the length of this chapter, they all won't be as long as this I believe, I'm still working with the structure.
Let me know if it's worth continuing though! I'll probably keep writing it anyway, but it's nice to know if people are enjoying it or not :D!
It's very slow moving right now, but trust me we will be seeing the guys very very soon and the story will pick up! We just have to hash out the background and everything first! There's a bit of a dangerous scene below, so hopefully that keeps everyone interested.
Let you get to know the key players here :)!
Anyway, enjoy!
1: Change
Everything is different.
So much has changed in such a short amount of time, so many things are almost unrecognisable. The streets are filled with people, all in some sort of rush when the streets used to be empty, and the buildings look like they can withstand anything.
It's disconcerting to walk these streets. Too many new sights and smells distract me at every opportunity, and every time I'm outside I have to remind myself to stay focused.
After the events at the crypt or tomb, whatever that place was, the witches quickly ushered me to their hideout on the outskirts of Missouri. In the midst of packing, their fellow sisters dropped everything as soon as I came into view, and those present at the crypt wasted no time in parading me around like some kind of prized dog. They gushed over the events, relaying everything to those who weren't there, but the room fell silent when one of the witches - Agatha I believe - revealed the first command Sadie had uttered as soon as she activated the ring.
"What were you thinking?!" was the general gist of how the conversation went.
"Such a stupid misuse of power, you stupid girl," hissed an older woman.
But Sadie quickly stepped up to defend herself, stating that these Winchesters were already a huge threat to their cause – whatever that cause may be – and by getting rid of them they solve a big problem, one that they can no longer ignore.
"It's only beneficial, think about it; they've already found this place, they've killed two of our own. Killing them will only help us in the long run."
After a few arguments which I definitely did not pay attention to, they accepted Sadie's story and everyone went back to packing their things, all in a rush to move before the Winchesters returned to off them again. It was honestly amusing, a little surprising too. If the Winchesters could send this group into such a panic, they could potentially be powerful targets - maybe the kill won't be easy after all.
The new hideout is still in Missouri, and after they asked me to ensure the place was safe from anything that could be a threat, they settled in there within a matter of days. During this time I decided to explore the nearby town, do a bit of travelling. I feel like I deserve a little me time considering I've spent the last one hundred years or so imprisoned.
I don't remember much from that time, but I could definitely pick up a lot of conversation that occurred around me, which is the only reason I could give to Agatha as to why I spoke with such a familiar dialect. I was entombed, but I was aware, in some subconscious way, and now that I'm out all I feel is anger. I've missed so much. Every time this happens I despise waking up again.
It took three days before the witches realised they could summon me, but I doubt they'll be doing that very often. When I appeared before them, albeit a little confused as to why I suddenly manifested in some dark, damp basement when a second ago I was traipsing through the mall, Sadie collapsed. Blood poured out of every orifice, and I merely watched on as they floundered to stop the bleeding.
It's unfortunate that Sadie's death would not reset the ring, however, but she lived regardless.
Now that we're approaching a week since my awakening, the witches have been getting more and more annoyed about the lack of dead Winchesters, and the inability to nullify the command to kill them. Their summoning only reiterated that, after they managed to staunch the bleeding.
What can I say, I'm not rushing.
Killing Dean will only reset the ring, allowing them to utter another command once the necessary requirements have been fulfilled again, and I imagine this one will be much more thought out. I despise witches, and helping them is already making my skin crawl.
Even Sadie's voice sets my teeth on edge.
My new phone buzzes, and I glance at the caller ID.
Speak of the devil.
I got the device after pickpocketing a few unlucky guys outside of a phone shop - I would have settled on stealing from just one of them but the best phones are more expensive, and I'm shallow like that. The guy in the shop gave me a crash course in all things technology, and here I am, a fully-fledged member of the 21st century.
"What?" I say, answering.
Her voice is shrill as she replies, "Where the hell are you?"
I turn slowly, taking in the coffee shops and small tech stores around me, "Around."
"Well get back to the house now, we have a few job for you."
She ends the call and I refrain from outright throwing the phone down the street.
Way too ruin my me time.
Within minutes of my arrival Sadie began her rant, pacing back and forth as I ignored her, and I tried to listen, I really did, but her voice is something else, so I kicked up my feet and played on my new phone instead.
There's so many games on these things, it's unreal. A zombie one is definitely my favourite right now and it's beyond addictive.
I curse as I die again, the little death tone whistling out of the speakers as the zombies gurgle.
"Are you even listening?" Sadie huffs, pushing back the nest of hair on her head.
I look up, not even pausing the game, "Uh, no."
She stalks forward, pressing both palms into the table. The limited light source highlights the dark bags beneath her eyes.
"You look like shit," I say, and she scowls, "Maybe take a day off, go to a spa."
"Shut up," she hisses, and I raise a brow, "I wouldn't be this stressed out if you would just kill the Winchesters already, or at least harm them in some way. Do you know how many times I've had to listen to the same rant about how my command is dumb?"
I don't reply, and she groans.
"Why haven't you killed them already?"
"All great things take time," I hum, twisting to the right but the zombie manages to capture me anyway. Exhaling, I glare up at the ceiling. My stress levels are almost on par with Sadie's because of this fucking game.
"Do you even know where they are?"
I shrug, "No."
"No?! Have you even tried looking for them?"
"No."
I think she may genuinely suffer from an aneurysm, or a burst blood vessel at the very least. Her face is becoming darker each time I talk.
"You have to do it, and I know you have to. I know I didn't say when but surely there's an automatic schedule this thing has to follow."
I shrug, "Sure."
"Just get it done… Soon," she pulls out a stack of folders from her desk, spreading them out before her, "These are the requests we've had from other witches in our coven - small favours or errands."
I spare them a glance before returning to my game.
"They're not particularly important, but we want them doing. Agatha is waiting for you in the house somewhere so go see her before you leave. She has your first task. After you've done that, start on these."
"So what happened to the whole 'the Winchesters must die' spiel? I thought that they were your priority," I say, standing.
"Oh they are," she snaps, "But you didn't honestly think we'd let you wander around doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time forever, did you? We know the curse lets us ask for little things too, small requests if we make the sacrifices."
Fuck.
Great.
"So, go see her before you leave. And we still fully expect you to spend the rest of your time on finding and killing the Winchesters."
I fold my arms, scowling but I nod, "Whatever you say, boss."
She's nearly pulling her hair out but with a string of bitter curses she walks away, and I sigh. So now not only do they know how to summon me, but they know that they can also force me to do their other little jobs too.
I make my way out of their house, a three story structure that's become a middle aged headquarters of sorts. A few witches mill around the area, eyeing me with open curiosity and I barely manage to avoid them, lip raised almost permanently in disgust. One particularly old witch glares at me as I pass through their weird little lobby, and as I open the front door I flip her off, earning a scowl.
Agatha is waiting outside, like she could sense that I was not going to 'see her' before I left again, and I refrain from rolling my eyes as I jog down the steps, hands in my pockets. She raises a greying brow as I approach her, a folder tucked neatly underneath one arm which she pulls out as I near.
"Didn't think I'd know you'd just flounce off without stopping by first, huh?"
I purse my lips, shrugging, "Well, that's just me, totally predictable."
She hums, unimpressed, "I have your new identity details here, alongside a month's stay at the motel down in Kansas," she moves to hand me the documents but snatches them away as I reach for them, "I expect the motel to be spotless and damage free throughout your stay, we're not losing our deposit."
I scowl, snatching the documents from her and inspecting them. A new driver's licence with my name, Evelyn, alongside a fake last name that takes me aback.
"What's with the last name?"
Agatha pauses, "Well, we knew your name was Evelyn, or Eve," she amends after I raise a brow, "But none of the literature we have on you includes your last name, so we had to make one up."
I nod, biting my lip, "Yeah, but why Smith?"
She shrugs, "It came to mind."
Rather than pester her further, I tuck the new documents away in my jacket, "Well if that's everything…"
She shakes her head, "No, no, we have a few more things we'd like you to do, before you disappear again."
Damnit. I fold my arms, sighing.
"It should be easy for you, considering your uh, skillset," she licks her lips, pausing, "we just need one of our own escorting to her cabin in the woods."
"Why can't you do it?" I say, cocking my head to the side, "Considering you're all bitching about the Winchesters, I would've thought that would be top priority."
"It is. But the old bat wants to go to a cabin that is in the middle of nowhere, with a wendigo prowling around."
"What the fuck is a wendigo?"
She blinks, "You don't know?"
When I don't reply she continues.
"Wendigo's are human's gone rogue, cannibals that turned into monsters."
"Sounds fake," I say, but she shakes her head.
"Absolutely not, the wendigo's are some of the most skilled hunters in the world, faster than the eye can see."
I finally nod, "Right, which is why you won't take what's-her-face to the cabin yourselves, eh? Your coven scared or something?"
Agatha nods slowly, displeasure clear across her features, "We know what we can do, and kill a wendigo is not possible, not without some serious dedication. It only hunts every few years or so, but we would like it to be gone before we allow Martha to return to the woods."
"Okay," I say, "Tell me where the cabin is and I'll try to do something about it."
She pokes me in the side, right where the folder is sitting in my jacket, and when I glare at her she quickly retracts the offending digit.
"All in the folders," she says quickly, "We want it done by the end of this week."
"Aye aye, captain," I grin, sarcasm dripping through my voice and she rolls her eyes before passing me, heading back into the house.
"Do not upset the sisters, Eve, they will be very displeased if you come back with disappointing news."
Ominous, this time I roll my eyes.
I hail a cab down, pulling out the folders once again when I'm comfortably in the back seat.
Travelling in America is a hell of a lot different to travelling in England, where I'm originally from. You travel thirty miles in England and you're in a completely different city, you travel thirty miles in America and you may just reach another gas station for the same town. It's a definite reminder of the differences between the two countries, but I can't say that I miss home. Far from it
It's costing a fortune taking a cab everywhere, but with this new drivers licence hopefully I can learn to drive soon.
It doesn't look too hard, the driver of the taxi cab seems to be handling it with ease.
I chew my lip as I read through the pages Agatha gave me, internally groaning as I progress. So now they want me to play hunter, be one of those things that Dean and Sam are.
Fantastic. Another distraction from my procrastination.
"Why do I have to bring her with me again?"
"Because she insisted, she doesn't want anyone near the place without her being there also."
I eye the older woman beside me – she looks like she's about to keel over any minute now, and at four and a half feet tall she's gonna get killed before I even notice she's gone.
"But surely she can wait a few more days, at least until I get rid of the wendigo. I know I have to escort her," I continue, "But even you know this entire thing is dumb."
"Like I said, she doesn't want anyone else at the cabin whilst she's not there to supervise."
"What kind of kinky shit does she have there? She won't die on me half way there, right?"
The slap on the back of the head is a surprise, and I yank the phone away, glaring at the old woman who glares right on back. It's the same one from the lobby, and her beady gaze holds my own before she looks away, satisfied.
There's a sigh on the other side of the phone, and I can almost see the scowl on Agatha's face.
"Just get her there in one piece, alright? Kill the Wendigo, then come back. Leave her there."
Someone's eager to get rid of their great-great-great grandmother. I end the call, turning to face the older woman, Martha, I think her name is. She stares resolutely ahead, mouth set in a flat line.
"Come on, then. Try not to die on me, please," I pause, "Really."
She doesn't reply and I take that as agreement, so I lead the way from the edge of the forest, down the well beaten path. All types of animals make their presences known, calling out to one another, and it fills the silence as we walk.
Her steps are quiet behind mine, and every so often I have to check behind me to make sure she's still following. Each time her heavily lined face meets my own with an awareness that's altogether too creepy, and I can feel her eyes on the back of my head whenever I turn back around.
If looks could kill.
The trail thins out the further in we go, just wide enough to let a small car through, and I eye the road ahead.
She's definitely slowing me down, but the old witch is determined to come with, stating it's her house and her belongings and no ancient devil child will ruin the sanctity of her home.
Whatever. If she dies it's not my problem. Thankfully she doesn't try to make conversation, and I can ignore her company easily enough.
The woods are pretty, to say the least. Incredibly green, vibrant with life.
Which is why I pause when we're forty five minutes into the journey. There's a noticeable change in the air, and I eye the treetops. Light slants through the canopy, leaves occasionally falling to the ground, and the distant drips of recent rainfall are the only sounds that penetrate the silence.
Nothing else does. No animals, nothing. Complete and utter silence.
Considering the place was alive only a few minutes ago, the lack of sound is unsettling.
Weird.
"You hear that?" I say, turning towards the old witch.
She stares at me for a few seconds before answering, as if I'm dumb for asking, "No."
There's a crunch to my right, and I immediately whirl towards it, backing away with Martha behind me. I can hear two solid thumps, heartbeats that become clearer as the crunches come closer and closer.
Two wendigo's?
I hope not, I only have enough lighter fluid for the one.
A bustle of activity to my left, and a voice that sounds incredibly familiar, "Help!"
Help?
It's a woman's voice, and I stand straighter, eyeing the direction it came from. Dense green shrubbery greets my eyes, but a tell-tale shimmer of movement has me stiffening.
The shift comes on in an instant. The power inside me awakens, furling outwards from the centre of my chest, reaching the tips of my fingers and the darkness consumes my hands, claws coming out to play. My vision sharpens, the effects of the energy coursing through my body, and I know that if I look into a mirror right now my eyes would be black, the surrounding skin black too, as dark as night, the tattoo like markings bleeding like ivy from my eyes down my cheeks.
It's a menacing look, and I glare at the offending foliage, canines lengthening.
"Stay here," I say, low enough for her ears only to catch.
There's three heartbeats now, and it's confusing. As far as I'm aware Agatha definitely only said there was one wendigo, and one of the heartbeats is definitely considerably slower than the other two. The other two seem human, the rhythm familiar, and I cock my head to the side as I begin to move steadily around the small clearing we've found ourselves in.
Leaving the woman behind, I fully expect whatever it is to come and pounce on her the very moment I step away, and I walk towards the disturbed trees slowly.
The smell is something else, like rotting meat that's dried out in the sun, and I latch onto it as I move closer. It's like its moving parallel to me, but I can't hear any footsteps.
This thing really is a good hunter, after all.
A gasp is the only notice I have, the old woman's intake of breath disturbing the serenity of the silence and I turn.
A clawed hand wraps around her shoulder, and it is damn fast, but I'm faster.
I teleport instantly, dissolving into a cloud of darkness and appearing behind the wendigo not even a second later, and I wrap a hand around its leathery neck.
The thing screeches as I launch it into one of the surrounding trees, its body meeting the trunk with a meaty thud. Bones crack, definitely broken, and it delays the creature long enough for me to approach it and take it in.
"God, you're one ugly looking motherfucker," I breathe. Its skin is all leather, dried and aged beyond comprehension. Tufts of hair stick out in odd places, and rags hang from its bony, greying frame. It watches me with red eyes, its mouth a mottled mess of teeth and it swipes at me as soon as I'm within range.
I grasp the limb, tutting, and with a flick of the wrist I snap its forearm.
The wendigo howls, but I put a stop to it quickly, once again grabbing it by the neck. I pull it up, pressing it deeper into the tree. The bark groans in response, wood chips fluttering down to the floor.
Clawed hands rake at my wrist desperately, splitting the skin and blood flows freely, stinging ever so slightly, but I pay it no mind, instead reaching for the lighter fluid canister in my back pocket.
I twist the cap off with my teeth before pouring the liquid onto the wendigo, throwing the canister to the side. The animalistic eyes of the creature meet my own, frantic almost now, as its own death becomes a reality. It struggles, it really does, trying to escape my grasp, but it's pointless.
"Bye bye," I say, flicking open a cheap lighter.
The wendigo erupts in flames, an inhuman screech escaping it and I step back, wrinkling my nose as the rotting meat stench intensifies. Massaging my wrist, I flex my fingers a few times as the cuts heal, wisps of dark smoke rising from the damaged tissue as the cuts disappear one by one.
The fucker got me good, I can even see a bit of bone, but it quickly knits back together and I turn towards Martha, wiping my blood stained hands on my jeans.
"Okay," I breathe, listening out for the other two heartbeats. They're faint now, almost indecipherable. Probably some actual human hunters wandering a little too far from the trail. "Now that that's sorted out, you should be good now," I say.
She doesn't reply, and I finally focus on her. The once beady eyes are now alert, wide as they take me in, and she takes a step back when I move forwards, mouth working to say something.
I look up, sighing, "Listen, lady, I've done what they wanted me to do. Can I go now?"
She nods mutely, and I bow, smiling before pulling a 180 and marching my arse right out of those woods. I don't even care if she makes it to the cabin, the wendigo is gone, my job is done, and I dial Agatha's number. She answers in two rings.
"Hello?"
"The wendigo is dead."
There's a pause, and I clamber over a fallen log. A shortcut, now that wrinkles isn't following me anymore.
"Already?"
"Yes," I say, "Now, if that's everything-"
"Wait!"
I pull the phone away, mentally counting down from ten, "What?"
"You know we have a few more jobs for you, so come back to the house."
"Don't you think your jobs are a misuse of my time?" I say.
Another pause, this one lasts much longer and I'm prepared to put the phone down before her voice breaks the silence.
"We decide what aspects of your time are most valuable. Don't forget that. We also have some information on the Winchesters whereabouts."
The click of the phone being put down signals the end of that delightful conversation, and for a moment I stop. The witches are becoming far too confident, thinking they can dismiss me as easily as that.
I'm starting to believe they do not know what they're doing, truly. They have no idea what they've revived. And I'm all too happy to show them.