A Witch's Howl

Driving Shotgun

"Nonna! God, Lilian! Your grandmother has the gun again," I hear the insane commotion downstairs. The last time Nonna got the gun, she shot the old hag who took her man. Granny was, and will always be, a menace. Suddenly, a bullet breaks my window and flies past me as I sit in my bed.

"God damn it, Nonna," I yell, slamming my hands on the comforter, and I begin running downstairs. I walk past the cauldron and antiques my family collects. I swing the front door open, and I hear the shotgun go off. I can also hear my mom yelling at Nonna to put the gun down.

"Nonna, put the gun down. She's already at the hospital; let the woman rest," I explain. Nonna looks like a kid caught with candy. She has the nerve to scoff, "It ain't my fault those bloody mutts come 'round."

"I'm taking offense to that!" I hear from the bushes. I purse my lips. "Nonna, I told you I was having company for work."

"Ever since you got that ratchet job in that Mutt house, you've changed. I'll be damned," her voice quivers from her old age. I roll my eyes, and she furrows her eyebrows in question. As she's about to threaten, my mom takes away the weapon and apologizes to my friend. "Sorry, kid, old people."

He emerges from the bush and brushes off all the leaves. "That old hag has known me since I was three; I can't believe she almost shot me."

"Her dementia has kicked the bucket, Donny. Yesterday she tried to shave off all my hair," I say, shaking my head. "I don't wanna know what her reaction will be to me moving out."

"You do realize I'm here to move you out?" He asks in shock. I nervously grin. "I told my Ma she's on board, but she thinks it's best we tell her when I'm all settled in."

"That's actually so demented," he says while shaking his head.

"Nah, that's my grandma," I retort. He shuts up real fast.

"Alright, well, the pack approval came in," he mentions. He hands me the piece of paper signed by the pack beta.

"Slay," I comment. "I'm ready to move into town."

"They really gave you the nicest house," he says, scoffing. "I barely bought my apartment up in Wilton, but yours is all the way in Selas."

"Is that good or bad?" I ask, confused. I've never been to this pack; the only reason I applied to be their witchy bestie was that they were paying well.

"Selas is where all the rich werewolves are," he points out. "I saw them build that house from the ground up."

"As they should, my presence is a privilege," I say, doing a hair flip.

"Don't be so cocky; you were the only applicant in the last, I don't know, 15 years," he says, scoffing. He opens the front door of my house while I follow behind him.

"Packs who have witches are rarely existing nowadays; your pack is rich enough to host me," I say firmly. "Plus, it was really hard to get in."

"What was the process like?" He asks curiously. He was a werewolf born into the actual pack.

"It was interviews and then a practical; it wasn't insane, but like, dang," I say, pretending to be exhausted. "That shit is draining."

"Can't be as bad as the mandated training," he says, scoffing. I open my room door where everything except my bed is packed into boxes.

"This is so sad," Donny says, looking around the room we both grew up in. "Shit, you even took down your Taylor Swift posters."

"Excuse you, Taytay is going to be upgraded, and I have ordered poster-like frames for them," I say, narrowing my eyes. "Put some respect on her name."

"Disappointed but not surprised," he says, shaking his head. He grabs the stack of heavy boxes and lifts them with ease. Werewolves are generally stronger physically.

I grab the boxes on my bed and begin to head downstairs with Donny in front of me. We head outside and put the boxes in his truck.

After three hours, we placed the last box into the car. Donny's car was heavily packed; I surprisingly had a lot of stuff in my tiny room.

I had never lived outside of that room; it was literally my first time being an adult, and to say I was scared shitless was an understatement.

I was worried about the accommodations, my transportation. I was in full stress mode. I figured it was a normal reaction to moving to an unknown place.

But it was time to hit the road. So I went inside my family home and hugged my Ma and grandmother.

"I'll only be 50 minutes away; I'll come by during the weekend," I tell my mom while hugging her. Luckily, my Ma had explained to my grandma I was going away for a while.

"Your ass better be here, or God help you," grandma threatens. I put my hands up in defense. "I'll be back, Nonna. Lay off the gun."

Shocked at her reaction, I gently hug her. "Alright, I'll see you later. Take care."

Once I said my goodbyes, Donny and I got into his truck and drove to the pack.

"Nervous?" He asks while driving.

"I'm shitting bricks," I say honestly. "I hope your pack is welcoming."

"I hope they're open to you," he points out. My head snaps in his direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say with wide eyes.

"There's a reason why there hasn't been a witch at the Lunar Syndicate," he confesses.

"Don't be a wimp, tell me," I say, hitting his arm. He snaps his head to me and nods.

"One, I didn't deserve that hit. I was pausing for dramatic effect," he says, offended.

"Second, around 15 years ago, a witch killed the head of the Lunar Syndicate council," he says warily.

"HUH," I yell out loudly.

"It left the pack on its toes about your...kind," he finishes.

With wide eyes, I reply, "The leader of the council? You mean the alpha?"

"But the current alpha is way nicer...from what I've heard," he mutters.

"I'm a...decent witch," I say firmly. "Like, I'm not a good person, and my morals can be messed up, but I wouldn't choose murder on a regular basis."

"That's good to hear," he says, amused.