The Spirits' Guide

Chapter 8

Owen woke with his alarm blaring. Tiredly, he glanced at the time. He stared at it. He woke up two hours earlier than needed. Then he remembered why he needed to wake up so early.

Getting out of his bed, he quickly threw on his clothes. Glancing out his window, he noticed it was still dark. It was summer so the sun only rose at five.

Taking a deep breath in, he grabbed his school bag and walked out of his bedroom. As quietly as he could be, he padded to the front door. However, he wasn't quiet enough as a shadow asked him, "What are you doing?"

Owen leapt away from the door guiltily.

Stuttering, he quickly explained, "I have to help with a few things at school today. I'm sorry I didn't tell you last night."

The shadowed figure stepped into the light of a streetlamp that shown through the window.

"Were you just going to leave without telling me? I know I might be relaxed, but I am still your mother." Owen's mother scolded him. Owen swallowed back an apology.

"I should've told you before I left." He shot back, his tone harsh. His mother looked as though she had been slapped.

He knew he was being cruel, but lately she had been more paranoid than usual. He was not a young child, he could take care of himself, or so he had thought before he learned that demons were after him.

"Just be careful," his mother said quietly before she faded into the shadows. Owen swallowed once more. Something was going on with her and she was too scared to say what it was. Owen quietly shut the door behind him before he jogged to the nearest bus-stop.

With each minute the bus took getting to where he was, Owen was getting more and more anxious.

Demons were after him and he was standing at a bus-stop right before dawn. He heard the horror stories and all of them happened before dawn.

He was about to just run back home when the bus finally arrived.

With a simple nod to the bus driver, Owen paid his fare and waited until he reached his destination.

Lowering his head to be as unnoticeable as possible, he got off and walked to a large and formidable building.

Reaching the gates, he asked to see the head of the Venatores Pythonissam.

The man in black armor, a material that Owen could not quite place, gave him a harsh look before he spoke into an intercom, requesting a madam Hathorne.

Within minutes, a tall woman with frayed graying hair and brown eyes entered the gates. She sliced her eyes from the man at the desk to Owen.

He stiffened as he stared into her eyes, eyes that held little light. It was as though the woman was nothing more than a walking skeleton with her sunken, cold brown eyes.

"What is it, young man? I am a very busy woman and I don't have time for any foolishness." The woman spoke in a cold voice, as though icicles were forming with each word.

Owen nearly stuttered as he spoke, "I have information about a witch, ma'am. I don't know if the Venatores know of this information, but I know of the witch's strengths."

"We already know about Realm-witches. I will assume one visited you in a dream? They are the best of the witches, but, still, they are witches and must be hanged." The woman sighed as she spoke, clearly bored of the conversation already.

"No, I... Well, yes, one did visit me in a dream, but she told me about the breed. Realm-witches are the most powerful witches and they visit realms. Not only that, they live long lives. The witch that visited me was over five-hundred years old. She's also the only Realm-witch in the world." Owen told the woman quickly, hoping that she didn't already know what he was informing her.