Wilt

Chapter 6: In the End They Both Die

Briony was the the sort of beautiful that made men, and more than a few women, forget what they were doing when she walked into a room. Genetics had gifted her with long, slender legs and clear skin. Even her eyes with their thick, dark fringe of lashes were unfairly gorgeous. Gen was always trying new mascaras to try and replicate the effect to no avail. However, Briony's crowning achievement was her hair, and that had everything to do with the complex cocktail of oils, masks, and deep conditioning that Briony prided herself in.

The Briony facing her and Malcolm had stray twigs in her hair which was tangled from the wind that whipped through the forest. Out of everything that had happened that day, except perhaps the ritual sacrifice in her backyard, this struck Gen as the strangest thing. As Briony got closer, Gen could see that she had a sheen of sweat covering her pallid face and her eyes were beginning to look bloodshot. That didn't stop her from looming over Malcolm in a threatening way. Gen was reminded that Briony practiced martial arts.

"Fine," Malcolm muttered, as though it made no difference to him. He unceremoniously released Gen, and she fell with a thud into the snow.

"Ow!" Gen exclaimed, "She's the one with the problem with you!" Except she was still feeling disoriented and her tongue still felt like a weight had been attached to it so her words came out in an incomprehensible slur.

"What?" Malcolm asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

Briony's face swam in front of hers. "What are you doing to her? Are you using her energy?" Briony accused.

Malcolm leaned against a large oak and folded his arms. "It's not me," he muttered darkly. Gen would have felt relieved but something in the way he said it made her think that it was something he'd definitely considered.

"Woah," Gen said. She had tried to climb to her feet, but the effort had made her vision go spotty again.

Briony glanced back at Malcolm, who appeared to be mostly ignoring them and surreptitiously pressed something into Gen's hand. It was a pouch, Gen thought, like the one Briony wore around her neck. The relief was almost instant. Gen felt as though she'd been looking through fogged up glass and it had finally cleared. She began to sit up but stopped when she saw Briony shake her head slightly.

"Gen, try to fight it. Feel your fingers and toes, try to regain ownership of your body." It took a moment for Gen to catch on, but then she realized that Briony didn't want Malcolm knowing about the pouches. She slipped it carefully inside the waistband of her skirt, so that it touched her skin, and then she pretended to figure out how to fight the exhaustion. She got to her feet, miming exhaustion just a little too dramatically because she saw Malcolm's eyes narrow suspiciously. The pouch didn't make her feel completely free, but she no longer felt as though she were about to lose consciousness.

"Briony, they have Danny," Gen said gravely.

Briony nodded. "I know, I went by your house to see how you were doing and your dad told me you'd left to pick up Danny hours ago."

Gen was surprised to see that the sky was already sinking into the murky gray of dusk. "We need to get to get to the," Gen gestured at the Hadlock manor, "castle thingy." She'd said it just to irritate Malcolm and from the way he shuddered she could tell it had worked.

"Cranborne," he said, as though the word was supposed to mean something. When both girls stared at him blankly he continued, "that's what the house is called. At least that's what they called it before..." he trailed off.

Gen pointed at him. "I definitely need an explanation for that, but right now I'm going to your house, whatever it may be called, and I'm getting my brother back."

Briony was eyeing Malcolm in a way that made him straighten up and glare in response. "I can get us to the house but once we're there you'll need to show us where they're keeping him."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, if they don't want us getting to the house, we won't get there."

"Listen Hadlock," Briony seethed, "you and I both know that by the time your family lets us approach, it'll be too late for Danny. So your options are to come with us now and help find him, or become just like your ancestors."

Necromancers. Gen thought, and she shivered, murderers. Something about the way Briony and Malcolm were talking made her realize that she was the only one who didn't seem to understand the magic going on in Haslemere, but she would have to get up to speed after they rescued her brother.

In the end, Malcolm trailed behind Briony and Gen as they strode towards the manor. Despite the fact that he was hostile and to rough in every way, something in the back of Gen's mind was relieved that he wasn't a murderer. She wondered why it mattered so much to her, he was a Hadlock.

She shivered, imagining the stacks and stacks of notebooks in her room. Telling the same story over and over, a boy and a girl fall in love, then they die. And every time it's a Hadlock who kills them. It was a curse, this overactive imagination of hers. But as she glanced over her shoulder at dark-eyed boy behind her, she couldn't help thinking that travelling through the woods in search of her lost brother with a mysterious stranger was something that would happen in her dreams.

***

"You can't be here," his voice hissed in her ear, his urgent tone contrasting with the hands that hissed like brands on the exposed skin of her midriff. Gen turned, sliding her own hands inside his jacket, relishing the heat his body always gave off in waves. She tilted her head up, taking in the flush in his cheeks and his dishevelled hair. He must have just gotten back from a ride, his motorcycle jacket had a sheen of droplets from the rain.

"Then send me away," she said, her smile crooked. His eyes shuttered closed and he exhaled, a long ragged breath.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a dangerous girl Genevieve Calverly?" His eyes flickered open and like every time she found herself drowning in their depths. His lips crashed into hers, hands that had rested on her waist became urgent, exploring the length of her back, dipping under her shirt. They staggered backward until she became aware of cold stone pressing into the small of her back. Warmth poured into her where his skin touched hers and she gasped from the intimacy of it. Even after all this time his magic took her by surprise, she retaliated by sending tiny static shocks up his neck, feeling the electricity spring from her fingertips.

It had taken time to learn that trick, to coax the charges into being friendly. That was the problem with magic, it was too easy to lose control and the consequences could be devastating.

Genevieve drew back for a moment,catching her breath, her heartbeat hammering in her ears.

"What is it?" he asked, his lips swollen from kissing. She felt him draw his heat back, feeling the magic seep back into his fingertips.

"What if I'm not ready by my birthday?" she asked. "What if I fuck up? Best case scenario it's another eighteen years before we get this chance and worst case..."

"Shh, Gen," he drew a thumb gently across her cheek, collecting tears she hadn't realized were pooling. "We'll be ready. This time will be different." He rested his forehead against hers. "If everything goes wrong I know what I have to do, I won't let you down."

She sighed. "I know you won't."

"But you need to stop coming here, it isn't safe this close to Cranborne."

Gen knew he was right. She couldn't explain why she kept coming here, to the Hadlock crypts. The only reason she could think of was that she was preparing herself for the worst case scenario. The scenario where the Hadlocks sacrificed her in two weeks, here on the very altar she leaned against.

After one hundred years she was ready for an ending where they didn't die. 

Authors Note:

Definitely dropped some hints this chapter- any guesses as to what's going on?