Starlight

Threatened - James

My sobs are muffled as I press my face into my pillow; no matter how much I try not to, though, the sound of Father taking his anger out on his weapons is deafening. In any other situation, I'd go down to the basement and tell him not to abuse them. But I can't.

Hunters aren't supposed to be weak; they're supposed to act instinctively and know how to keep their emotions under wrap. For the first time, it feels like my control - the control I once had a tight grip on - is slipping from my fingers and I can't do anything to help that.

How can he go after her after everything that has happened? My fear isn't just for him, for his well-being. It's for me, because, if I lose my father, there will be nobody else. I will have nothing.

The scenario sifts through my mind, what would happen. I know exactly what I'd do. A fierce grief would overtake me, followed by anger at myself - and then I'd just be so torn internally that I'd hurt myself - deliberately. Maybe, in that circumstance, it would make me feel better.

My thoughts, just for a second, linger on Maya, but that second is fleeting; I can't possibly tell her. Even knowing our mutual feelings for each other, she still wouldn't understand. How could she? She's a witch. My enemy. Maybe it's time to face it.

Silence. Father has stopped, and there are now footsteps on the stairs. On the landing outside my bedroom. Heavy breathing.

I can hear him and he knows it. For a moment, I think he's going to come in, to try to explain why he "has to do this," but he withdraws, clearly dismissing the stupid idea, knowing that I am thinking only for ourselves - what he would call being selfish.

And I am. I am selfish.

* * *

Do you know that feeling, the feeling where you have to just escape and you don't know why? Well, in my case, I do know why.

We live in the middle of nowhere. That's good, because that way no one will be able to disrupt my precious time alone. I need to think.

Father has to notice as I tear down the driveway, feet pounding on the ground like never before. My heart races. A short knife, the blade of which is sheathed, digs into my hip where it rests, in my pocket. I hardly take in any of my surroundings as I run, concentrating instead on the wispy tendrils of white that curl away from my mouth. The winter's night is so cool that every breath brings cold air whistling down my windpipe painfully, festering on the natural warmth of my body. I haven't the time of think of how idiotic it was to leave the house without a coat - or even an extra layer. I don't pay attention to where I'm going. I don't have to; My feet know the way.

Before me is a field, the object of every kid's fantasy. The grasses brush my thighs as I slice through the great length of it, the raw wind pushing my hair - longer than most teenage boys' - back and slapping against my face. I don't falter. Not until I reach the clearing.

Even though I haven't been here in a while, it still looks exactly the same. The dark sky is a blanket, settling heavily over the whole of the field. Tall, spindly trees arch over the entrance to the woods. Where there are gaps between the twisted branches, shards of the navy expanse overhead, speckled with beaming, silver stars, can be seen. It takes me a minute to believe I'm actually here. It looks, if possible, even more amazing at midnight.

Catching my breath, I sink down onto the grass, lying back to look at the sky. The wild wind slows to a tame gust and I sigh. If only Maya could be here to see this, I think, and then scold myself. I'm not supposed to be thinking about her.

Everything is silent - until there is a sound.

A laugh.

I snap up, head whipping around as I try to locate it. My heart beats furiously against my rib cage.

There it is again.

One second, it seems as if it's coming from the woods, and then it is up in my ear. I bite my lower lip, forcing myself to be quiet, no matter how much I want to shout - no, I must let my hunter impulse overcome any fear.

"James." My name is but a whisper riding the wind. What is it? I think, squeezing my eyes shut. My fingers slide into my pocket, fumbling with the knife. And then it is free.

I spin on my heel fast. It's impressive, but this time, I don't have my father around to admire the swift movement. It is simply me and the creature.

"Show yourself," I demand, eyes darting into the darkness beyond the trees, yet there is nothing. I raise the blade, holding it in front of me in defence.

I feel breath on my neck, moist. "Foolish boy," it says.

In an instant, my skin feels like it's tightening, unbearably so. The knife drops. All my hunter skills leave me as an unbelievable searing scorches my entire body. I forget, sometimes, just how powerful these creatures are.

"Please!" I cry, lip trembling. I collapse, on my knees in the long grass. "Don't hurt me!"

The creature cackles, an unpleasant sound, but it releases its hold on me. Sweat trickles down my spine and I scramble in the grass, fingers stretching out, seeking the knife. I feel the skin of one finger split open, see a sliver of silver, and know I have found it.

I'm up in a split-second, the blade flying in the direction of the voice. From the silence, I suppose it didn't bury itself in the repellent being's flesh as I so hoped, and I inhale as it laughs again, seemingly amused.

"Consider yourself warned," it hisses in my ear, and I then feel it draw away.

I can't run home fast enough.