December 2010

A tall, rather squat woman, with grey dark hair, entered a room plunged into darkness. She looked to be in her sixties or so, although her face had that unflappable, distinguished quality about it that made her look beautiful no matter her age. She slammed the door behind her with a clatter to let the occupant of the room know of her presence. The dog, lying on the bed, lifted its head at the sound, wagging its doe ears. The marbled border collie measured the newcomer with his eyes, then lay down again quietly, as if nothing had happened. Next to him, on the bed, the outline of a body could be seen lying under the duvet. Luise walked over to the bed and in one swift movement pulled the covering off her cousin.

To her eyes appeared a slim, pale body, curled up in an embryonic position, covered in places with freckles and tattoos, clad only in a boxer shirt and panties. Long, mangled chestnut hair was scattered around the sleeping woman's head, forming a fiery halo, cutting away from the green silk sheet, even despite the darkness in the room. A little moonlight poured in through the large balcony door, making the whole room, furnished with antiques, send a shiver of anxiety down her spine.

'Charlie! Get up right now! You have an important phone call!' The dark-haired woman shouted, shaking the sleeper by the shoulder.

The awakened woman wrinkled her freckle-covered nose and opened one eye, glared at Luise as if the latter had killed her entire family. However, she did not resist when her cousin pressed her own mobile phone into her hand and turned on her heel to go and turn on the light.

'Witch?' Came an uncertain female voice from the handset.

Charlotte, for her nearest and dearest Charlie, she murmured affirmatively, waiting for the next words. She definitely didn't like being snatched from sleep, especially one caused by wallowing in her private pool of grief and depression. However, she always said that she would not refuse to listen to any request and if she knew she could help, she would try to do so. Lately, admittedly, she has been thinking of changing this all-consuming advertising slogan and simply retiring. Probably if she told anyone about it, they would laugh at her, especially as she looked like she had only just finished high school, however, her fatigue was reaching its peak and she felt like she was over a hundred rather than the years she had actually lived.

'My name is Laura Hale,' she heard on the other end of the line and her attention immediately focused on the girlish voice, she had known a few people with that name in the past. 'I know our situation is not unfamiliar to you, and now I need your help once again...'

She managed to hear a male voice in the background, trying to persuade Laura from asking for help, but the girl only hissed a warning at her companion and continued.

'Our former Emissary sent me a message, there's something going on in Beacon Hills, someone is leaving signs, some kind of werewolf, I think someone besides me and my brother survived the fire. I want to investigate, but I wanted to ask you to help me... We don't have a pack, and if it's some bigger thing...'

'I'll meet you there after the New Year, Laura,' she interrupted the girl, knowing there was nothing more left to say. 'But close all your business where you are, and above all don't leave if you are arguing with someone, your mind should be a calm surface of a lake, not the ocean in a storm', she trotted out her standard formula, making people see her as either very mysterious or completely nuts. Both options worked very well in maintaining the image of the Old Witch. In this case, however, the advice, could prove useful, as parting in anger was never pleasant, and she could hear it quite a lot in the male voice on the other end of the phone. 'Say where exactly.'

'By the burnt-out house, right next to the boundary of the reserve. You'll find the place without a problem', came the reply, after which the call was cut off.

Charlotte threw the phone on the table next to the bed and sat down. Luise was already waiting for her, with a set of clothes in her arms and a fresh towel in her hand. When the redhead finally rose from the bed and approached her, the older woman's nose wrinkled slightly as she drew in air, measuring the girl's petite figure with her eyes.

'How many days have you not washed? Have you eaten anything at all?', she asked coolly.

'I don't know, I slept. Get away from me, I'm going to work again...'

'Yes, it's mid-December, which means you've only got two weeks to sort things out here and organise yourself... Really, sometimes I think I should just let you rot in your own swamp and go to Florida myself.'

'Let me remind you, darling, that this swamp belongs to our whole family.' It was an irrefutable fact, most of the swamp-covered land in the suburbs of New Orleans had belonged to their family for many years now. 'And you'd be bored to death in Florida, you love to help me, although I don't understand why you insist on staying at home for several years while I'm away.'

'Some of us mortals are getting old, Charlie...', Luise reminded her with a sour smile darkly. 'In addition, most of us are doing it a bit faster than you...'

The redhead merely waved her hand, belittling the older woman's words, and entered the bathroom. Luise looked around pityingly at the floor, covered in dirty clothes. She shrugged her shoulders and left the room to start organising everything her friend would need in Northern California. Unfortunately, she couldn't prepare her for what would happen to her there; after all, she couldn't predict the future.

Charlotte Benoit didn't like to waste time. Before twenty-four hours had passed, she was already on the road in her dark blue 1970 Chevelle, with only her dog Isle and two maincoon cats - a black Behemoth and a white Astra - as companions. On her way to the opposite coast, she carefully checked all the contact boxes she had established over the years for the supernatural entities she had helped in her career. The picture wasn't looking good, the news had spread and it wasn't just her and Laura heading to Beacon Hills, but something else, she feared, far worse than what was already waiting there. She just hoped she had time to solve the problem before another one fell in there full force.

01. January 2011 - Saturday

She spent New Year's Eve on the road, and on the morning of New Year's Day she parked her fancy car in the driveway of the cottage Luise had found for her online. As she got out of the car and peered around the house, she started laughing. Her cousin definitely knew her taste; the cottage was tiny by California standards, but it had a garage, which was a basic need for her. She wouldn't let her Chevelle stand in the street and get wet in the rain. The garden was neglected, but that was the least of her problems; if she could find even a little spare time, she could easily remedy that. She let the dog out of the cart and picked up the two containers with the cats, stepping onto the small porch where the swing hung. The paint on the facade, a pleasant dark maroon colour, was peeling a little, but this was only visible up close.

The door was painted white; she opened it and looked around the ground floor. Opposite the entrance was the staircase to the first floor, and beyond that was the rear exit from the house. To the left of the front was a small study, at the back was a traditionally decorated kitchen and to the right was a large living room, stretching from the front to the back of the house. All the furniture was covered with white covers to protect it from dust. There was even a fireplace and a TV in the room, the latter of which Luise must have somehow fixed, as it was definitely new and didn't match the rest of the furnishings. Right next to it, on a small cabinet was a dvd player and further away a gramophone, which only reinforced Charlie's belief that these items of equipment were her cousin's doing.

She headed upstairs, where she found a spacious bathroom, with both a shower and a sizable bathtub, a non-standard solution, at least in her home state. There were two bedrooms, one small with only a double bed and a wardrobe. The witch decided to dedicate this room for guests, whom she didn't plan to invite anyway. When she finally reached the master bedroom, she smiled to herself as she pulled the sheets off furniture. The bed was far too big for one person, let alone one who was less than a metre seventy tall and didn't weigh particularly much. The metal frame was curved in some romantic patterns, and an ornate canopy hung from the ceiling. In the corner, next to a built-in wardrobe, there was a bergère armchair, and next to the window a secretary's desk, which had probably been used as a dressing table by the previous owner. In the corner by the door she had laid out the dog bed, although she knew perfectly well that Isle would mostly occupy the place on the bed, right next to her mistress, as would the cats, who had already managed to get out of their containers and were also exploring the house.

It took her a whole day to adapt the house to living in it, and she also had to do some shopping, as the fridge was completely empty. She took this opportunity to explore the city and drove around aimlessly, exploring. She found the nearest high school, where she was to start teaching history from the beginning of the new term. The grounds of the institution were really impressive, it had several outdoor fields for different sports and from under the gate she could see the extension where the swimming pool must have been. Previously, when she had worked as a teacher, it had been in a small village school, so this one filled her with anxiety. Such a large building must have housed a great many pupils, and she would be responsible for them all as a teacher. She laughed bitterly to herself, realising that there was probably something strongly wrong with her if she was willingly taking on such extra duties when, after official working hours, she would have to protect this whole town anyway. She could sense the telluric currents flowing through them were worryingly strong, and this heralded trouble.