Witch of the Wild Woods
By: Autumn G. Hughes
Prologue: Silver & Gold
Luna left the window open again inviting an obnoxiously frigid breeze into their shared guest room. Lane couldn't sleep. An early attempt to bring himself to orgasam and exhaustion failed. There were a myriad of other ways to get himself to sleep; get up, close the window, maybe even find a way to turn on Uncle Dan's ancient heater. It wasn't like the house was an original colonial or anything. Nevertheless, when they'd first arrived in Washington nearly a month ago, it felt like their uncle had gone out of his way to make everything in his home older than it had to be. "Retro-style," is what he called it.
So it happened that when Luna would sneak out of their guest room around Midnight for the last few days, the "Retro-style" window panes wouldn't be able to close all the way once they were opened. Owls hooted. Late summer breezes whispered through the dense trees. Branches scraped against one another in an eerie nocturnal symphony. Lane was torn by doing what little he had to in order to get some rest and breaking his perfectly comfy position in the old twin bed covered in a thick down feather comforter.
That's when Lane heard the scream.
He immediately sprang out of bed, reached for his navy blue vest, ballcap, and black aluminum maglight. He slid his bare feet into the scuffed Timberland Boots and bounded toward the window. Lane waited. His hands gripped the pale oak window sill. Cool summer air blew across his knuckles. The night symphony had resumed. Leaves danced upon the wind. Branches scratched together and forest creatures moved unseen through the brush.
That scream wasn't Luna's.
Luna did not scream.
He and his adopted sister had only been siblings for three years. That time had flown with the grace of a peregrine falcon in a nose dive after its prey. They'd gotten into more than their fair share of mischief for barely being thirteen; pub fights, conspiracies, and a dozen absurd supernatural situations. As harrowing as the predicaments they found themselves in, Luna never screamed. A squeal of delight perhaps? To scream in fear was something Lane had yet to hear escape his sister's lips.
Having scanned the woods behind their uncle's unnecessarily rustic shack, Lane eventually saw a single light on in the second story bedroom a few houses up the road. They weren't too deep into the woods; barely at the base of mountains. Uncle Dan had managed to purchase what started out as a modern ranch home across the street from
Mount St. Helens' National Volcanic Monument
. At first read that sounds like a busy tourist spot. It was not. At least it wasn't from the perspective of Lane who'd spent most of his life in Sante Fe, New Mexico with a modest civic center and downtown. In this town, if you could even call it that, the silence weighed heavy.
Screams echoed for miles.
After a few minutes of staring at the light up the road, Lane awkwardly maneuvered his gangly limbs and body out the window and onto the grass outside. That not too distant light was still on. It flickered and strobed. It called to him. Thoughts of phoning the sheriffs were immediately dismissed. Lane had learned time and again that law enforcement, while not entirely unhelpful, were usually more of a hindrance. Whatever danger may lie in wait, Lane and Luna worked more efficiently when they dealt with a mystery directly rather than waiting for questionably-useful-officials to arrive.
Lane had walked nearly a quarter mile up the empty road when he realized that Luna was not by his side. Three years may not be a long time, but in the spring of his youth, Lane considered himself radically fortunate to have a sister like Luna. She simply had no fear. Or, at least none that they'd encountered so far. Her confidence was contagious, and she often admired his ingenuity. Being reliant on Lane wouldn't be giving her the credit she was due. Individually, they could manage just fine. Together? They were an unstoppable force and immovable object that worked in tandem to overcome obstacles no ordinary pair of siblings could. When the frightened scream broke the still of the night once more, Lane felt the absence of Luna's fearlessness and the courage it fostered.
Lane stood there, frozen in the middle of the street across from the house with the second story light blinking in odd sequences. His eyes had adjusted enough to the dark. No street lamps lit his path. Only the bright waxing crescent moon and trillions of stars shown down from above. It was a young girl who'd screamed judging by the pitch and timbre. There was terror laced in that scream that made Lane's skin crawl. Someone needed help and by the looks of things only a thirteen year old armed with a flashlight was going to answer that call.
Taking a deep breath, Lane sprinted around the side of the house. Luna's methods were usually more direct. She would have burst through the front door without knocking. Lane however solved a puzzle by finding the edges first. Making a complete lap around the house, panting for breath, there was no immediate evidence of forced entry. No clear and present danger from the outside. Now came the moment of truth.
Stepping up to the front patio, wooden patio creaking, bending under boot, Lane balled up his fist and knocked on the door; "Miss, it sounds like you're in distress, is everything okay?" Still waiting for his final bout with puberty to deepen his voice, Lane's attempt to come across as authoritative and masculin was comical at best. He probably would die from embarrassment if whatever was waiting inside didn't kill him first.
Suddenly, there was motion in the house. Footsteps pounded down the stairs. A
crash
of something porcelain shattering and muffled sobbing. Lane stepped back, flashlight held like a club above his head ready to strike.
The door flew open.
Lane held his impulse to close his eyes and start swinging. Instead, he was captivated by a girl of unspeakable beauty. She was the kind of lovely that caused Lane's jaw to lock in place and words to lose all meaning and vanish from his lips. Pale bare feet under powerful legs ran past him. Bare pearl white arms dotted with freckles pumped up and down while she propelled herself forward off the deck. Ample breasts were loosely concealed under a size-to-big black shirt with Chris Jericho's face on it. Her flowing, curly auburn hair shimmered under the dim porch light. Those eyes: sapphire oceans to drown in, stared back at Lane when she'd stopped and spun around to face him.
Her rose petal lips parted in a gasp, "IT'S IN THERE!"
Lane blinked away his instant infatuation and came back to reality. There was a girl. She was in trouble. He had a job to do. Jogging after her to the grass covered empty lot across the street, Lane asked in the manliest voice he could conjure, "What's in there, miss?"
The girl finally came to a stop. Her shimmering blue eyes locked onto the second story window. She breathed heavily. With the back of her left hand, she wiped away the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks. Once she caught her breath, she quickly looked Lane up and down, "Who are you? What are you doing out here?"
Lane cleared his throat and dropped the macho act; it ended up just hurting his throat and sounding objectively silly. "I'm Lane. Lane Woods," He stated calmly, without conjuring any stoicism or false bravado; "I heard a scream from my uncle's house, down the road there. Are you okay?"
"Why aren't you wearing pants?" The girl asked, pointing.
Slightly more self conscious, Lane tried to gloss over his choice of wardrobe, "It sounded like an emergency. They're bike shorts. It's sometimes hard to regulate my temperature at night because the... Nevermind. Not important." Her perfect rose lips flashed a small smile. Lane blustered, "My apologies for not coming to your aid in the proper attire. You screamed so I ran over. Are you hurt? Is someone hurting you?"
The girl shook her head, red locks swayed as she did so, "There's..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip, "I'm fine. It's nothing."
Lane raised an eyebrow, "No one screams like that over nothing." She glanced away, embarrassed. Lane offered a sincere smile, "I know you don't know me from Adam, but helping people is what I do. It's okay. Is it your parent's? Or, relative?" Glancing up to the house, Lane watched as the light in the upstairs room suddenly flickered and shorted out with a loud
pop
!
The girl gasped and shivered.
