3 July 2012
I Love You to Death
Chapter One
Jasmine
My hands closed in around his delicate throat as I felt his body thrash underneath me, powerless. I was always two steps ahead of him, my body quicker than his. I was in control and the adrenaline that ran through me told me I liked it. His blue and white checked shirt that ripped open in his struggle exposed his pale chest. Bright red streaks ran across his well-defined abs, I let my fingertips lightly trace the raised bloody lines I’d gouged into his body not moments before. Lifting my fingers to my lips, I licked away his sweet blood – a brilliant taste of victory filled my mouth. Like a lioness finally catching her gazelle. The water from the river lapped around his waist and my legs as I continued to straddle him. His body continued to lash away at me, but the power that surged inside of me burst into overdrive as I let my animal instincts take over. I raised his head from the muddy river bank and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Holding his head in my hands, it only took a second to break his neck, but the pleasure it gave me lasted what felt like minutes. I let his limp body fall to the muddy floor as I rolled off him.
I stood up and walked a little further into the river, the setting sun cast shadows on the trees around me, and the light breeze made them dance on the river. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the water, I could almost see the power emanating from my body. It was like I was seeing myself for the very first time. My long brown hair, whipped gently around my shoulders in the breeze, and even in the murky river, I saw my eyes; shining bright, as if they were the pinnacle of all my energy. They glowed a silvery white colour, dazzling even to me. I saw for the first time what i was. I was the hunter.
* * * *
Right on cue, I woke up screaming again. But like every night, no one was around to hear my screams. There were no parents to come and tuck me into bed, to tell me everything was going to be alright; that it was just a bad dream. I lay there in the darkness of my tiny studio flat, on a bed that served as a couch and a dining table, sometimes both at the same time. It had been two months, and twelve days since the ‘accident’, and the day my parents kicked me out onto the streets with nowhere else to go. I was crushed at first; I felt so alone and scared of who I was. I knew why my parents did it though. I was becoming even more powerful as each day passed; if I stayed at home I was a threat to their safety. With the power coursing through my veins every second, I was like a ticking time bomb – just waiting for the right element to set me off. I had to get back on my feet, and fast. I dipped into my wages I had been saving up and took on more hours at my job as a waitress. Since it was the summer holidays, I was able to work as many hours as they threw at me. Soon I went from crashing at friends’ houses to renting my own place; a safe environment for me where I threatened nobody.
Swinging my legs round the side of the bed, I perched on the edge and ran my fingers through my hair, loose knots catching on my rings. I tried shaking the horrible images from my mind, but i knew it was pointless. This dream I kept having night in and night out wasn’t a dream at all - It was a vicious memory from my darkest moment. My first killing – and hopefully my last.
It was on my twelfth birthday that i found out about my condition - as my grandmother liked to call it. I was said to be the seventh descendent of Sirens originating from Greece in the Laskaris family, since the gene could only ever be passed onto female spawn. My mother however was born with a recessive Siren gene. She never developed her power and has lived her life quite normally. Since the gene had skipped a generation, I was born with more than one Siren genome; like a double dose of the condition. My powers started to develop quicker than they were meant to, and more precautions had to be taken to ensure my safety, and the safety of others. My grandmother was the last known descendent in the family so she was able to teach me how to keep my power under control, but I don’t think anyone anticipated just how powerful I would grow to be. A little before my eighteenth birthday, my grandmother passed away. The grief of losing the one person who knew exactly what i was going through was too much to bear. My control over my powers slipped, and i felt numb. I became a typical teenager, I stayed up all night, I went to parties, and I drank until I forgot the pain; I was completely out of control. I was becoming so powerful but so irresponsible; it was difficult for my mother to help me control myself. She never had to deal with the powers herself, so she didn’t know how to fully control them. What she knew had worked with her mother, her didn’t necessarily apply to me. When we lost my grandmother, the void i felt in my heart filled up with power. I was angry and confused. Why me? Why now? I felt alone in this town, where no one else understood me.
I wasn’t totally alone though. As it turned out, the world I lived in, the quiet seaside town of Cleethorpes was more interesting than I thought. Living like ordinary people were covens of white witches, their descendants dating back centuries. To look at them, you wouldn’t be able to tell their backgrounds and their beliefs, the power that seemed to radiate from them; they could have been any man or woman you passed in the street. They were good people, coming together as families for rituals, casting spells to aid the sick and the worthy. Their magic was real, and it was incredibly compelling.
Ironically...Sirens and Witches didn’t get along. Hundreds of years ago, the neighbouring town of Grimsby had a busy and thriving fishing industry; the docks were always bursting at the seams with fishermen coming in and out, traveling along the Cleethorpes coastline. Soon, news got around of mysterious disappearances of fisherman, boats crashing into nearby rocks, and sightings of strange ‘fish’ in the water. Then one day, an injured Siren washed up on the beach. A local Witch passing by tried to rescue her, but instead the Siren turned on the witch and tried to use her powers to seduce and kill him. The Witch barely escaped with his life, leaving the injured Siren to bleed to death on the beach. The Witch alerted the covens and together they vowed to protect whoever they could against these creatures. Since the coven was only small at this time, their powers only stretched to a protection spell that ensured all white Witches and future descendants could never be influenced by their powers. There was nothing that these Witches wouldn’t do to protect their families and friends, they were kept on high alert for decades after that, and soon enough the Siren race either died out or moved away. That was until my great, great grandmother moved over here from Greece, two hundred years ago. She was the first Siren to take residence in the town for centuries. The white Witches were furious; and the covens campaigned for her exile out of the town. My great grandmother, Ana Laskaris, was a kind, gentle and pure woman. She learned from her ancestors in Greece how to control her powers, and in her very long life she had only ever harmed one person. The Siren race as the Witches knew it had changed. Ana fought for her rights to settle in Cleethorpes, asking for a chance to show her remorse and her control; it took years for the Witches to come to an agreement about her settlement. Finally a contract was drawn up between the head of the coven, Jack Harwood and my great, great grandmother Ana. The contract stated that Ana and any of her future descendants can take residence in the town of Grimsby and Cleethorpes providing they remain in control of their powers at all time. In the event of a murder potentially caused by the power of a Siren, she will be held to trial and permanently exiled from the town if proven to be guilty.
The years went on smoothly and calmly. My great grandmother fell in love with a local man and bore a daughter, my grandmother, who was just like her mother. She was strong, level headed and she knew the importance of keeping her powers under control. Then, just like her mother, she fell in love and gave birth to my mother. It was a shock to the coven and to my grandmother that she never developed her powers. My mother has always felt bitter about her lack of powers, saying she felt cheated of her bond to her ancestors. My grandmother loved her all the same, maybe even more because she knew that she would never have to control herself against hurting anyone. Soon enough, I was born and nobody expected me to be as powerful as I am, least of all my mother. It has been a struggle ever since.
I shuffled around in my bed and pulled the covers up around my neck. The nights were starting to get colder and I scolded myself for not getting a thicker duvet. It was 4am and I had to be up for college in less than 4 hours, closing my eyes I tried to block the images from my previous dream out of my mind. I felt my Blackberry vibrate on the pillow next to me, the screen lit up my poxy apartment. I unlocked my phone and read the text with squinted eyes. “Hey jas, Is everything okay?? x” It was from Ash, my best friend. He had this strange gift that meant he could always sense when there was something wrong. But I guess that was one of the perks of having a Witch as a best friend. Ash Barker was a few inches taller than I was, and was named after his mop of ash-blonde hair that made his blue eyes sparkle brighter than anyone I have ever known. He was magical in every sense of the word; and I owe my life to this boy.
Chapter One (comments appreciated) • Opuss № I