Witch (Supernatural #2)

24: All For One

To plot, verb.

1. to plan secretly, especially something hostile or evil.
2. to devise or construct the plot of a play, novel, etc.  

***

After swimming great times on Saturday - with the exception of that disastrous first race - my times on Monday morning were terrible. They were even worse than that first race. Goes to show how much my success depended on my concentration. Jamie knew why my concentration wasn't what it ought to be; the others did not. They were seriously worried about me, especially when I nearly drowned whenever someone popped out of the water without warning.

Ken and Noah had tried their hardest to convince me to not go to school. Noah had gotten up way earlier than usual just to try and talk me into staying. But if I didn't go, what would I do all day? Besides, I didn't think it mattered whether I went or not. Twice I had been cornered by the witch hunters now, and twice they had done so without anyone around. I couldn't think of a place more crowded than a school during the day.

In theory, everything should be fine.

In reality, not so much.

Everything made me jump. Everyone was a potential threat to my life, every shadow a potential hiding place for evil. Ironically, the witch hunters called me evil. I was on edge from the moment I had to let go of Ken's hand. That was basically when my day went to hell. I should have stayed home. I should have been doing relaxing exercises all day. But I was stubborn and wouldn't listen to anyone.

It came back to bite me in the butt, that's for sure.

Everyone tried to ask me if I was okay, and I told them I was, the way people who clearly aren't alright always do. I'm not sure what they made of it. Amanda must have gone to Noah for answers because he texted me the excuse he had given her. The police might have a lead on who killed Mom and we were not certain how to deal with it.

"He isn't completely wrong," Ken argued. "If you replace 'police' with 'hellhounds', it's actually quite accurate."

"They don't exactly have a lead, now do they? That's the whole problem."

Ken walked me to my first class, where I noticed the desk next to mine wasn't taken by the usual student. Instead, it was a guy I vaguely remembered seeing at the soccer table in the cafeteria. Everything about him screamed werewolf. I didn't think much of this first switch. Or the second in my next class. By the time, third period came around I suspected. And when I sat down in fourth, Sawyer was already there, simply waiting to be bombarded with my questions.

"Did Tate say anything to anyone?" I asked her the minute I dropped into my seat.

"No. Why'd you ask?"

"Because there is a werewolf or some other kind of supernatural suddenly sitting next to me in every class. Why would they do that if they didn't know? How do they know anyway? I'm not being paranoid, am I?"

Sawyer grinned, holding her thumb and pointer finger less than an inch apart. "A little paranoid. You shouldn't worry about the supernaturals though; I haven't been part of this world for long but I've already noticed that gossip travels faster and is more accurate. And after what happened last fall, they seem to know exactly when one of their own has been threatened. Tate says he's never seen anything like it."

He wasn't the only one. The supernatural community was united in its supernatural existence, but within that community, the different kinds of supernaturals normally kept to themselves. It was like a school; all students attend together, but within that same school, there were be a number of different groups. Stereotypical or not. Here, however, everyone appeared to have bonded in a way that created a lasting loyalty to one another.