Young Writers Society

Story continues from The Things I Do

Whenever a hostage tries to be the hero, it always ends one of two ways: The first, they end up getting themselves killed. They try to take on one of their captors who are faster and stronger than they are, and they die. The second is that the hostage and the Wick hunter, in this case me, both die.

Either way, my options weren't looking too good.

My eyes grew very wide and I shook my head slowly, but to no avail. She had a crazy look in her eyes, one that only comes from shock.

Her knees trembled and she struggled to get her feet underneath her.

The stairs groaned and I tore my eyes from her. It was quiet, but it was undeniable. My heart flooded with relief. Gerard! They were here.

I had to create a diversion, I realized. My eyes wandered back to the girl, and a plan began to form. I hated it, but it would definitely work.

The redhead girl was standing now, the knife unsteady in her hands. She was only two feet away from the closest Wick, the wizard who had knocked me down.

Unsure of herself, she looked back down to me, giving me the opportunity I needed.

“No!” I shouted, staring directly at her.

Just as I expected, the Wick nearest her turned just as she lunged. He was faster than she was and easily knocked the knife back to the ground, but the momentary outburst gave my family the distraction they needed.

Quick as lightning, the four of them poured down the basement steps. I dove for my knife and rolled to my feet. The room broke out in chaos.

Two-Bit took out the Wick nearest the girl with a simple flick of his knife. The Wick grabbed frantically at his neck, but it was too late-he fell to the ground, blood already forming a halo around him. Across the room, Patrick expertly wielded an antique Japanese sword, the blade nothing more than a glint of silver before it buried itself in it’s target.

Gerard rushed over to the girl, and I followed. He met my eyes and gave me a severe look.

“Gerard!” I yelled, the praesul suddenly behind him.

He twisted and barely dodged the blow. I quickly wrapped a protective arm around the girl and sprinted up the stairs. If I learned anything from Gerard, it was that no innocent should ever be left unprotected. The others would be able to take care of themselves-right now my only job was to get her out alive.

I half-led, half-pulled her through the wreckage of the house. I only stopped when we were safely through the door and the gravel driveway crunched beneath my feet.

Tears streamed down the girls face. I bent over, hands on my knees, and tried to catch my breath.

I stood up, and she backed away slowly, shaking a finger at me.

“Who are you?” her voice trembled. “Where am I? What do you want?”

I rolled my eyes. “Relax, darling. We’re here to help you.”

“You killed that girl!” she shrieked. “Why should I trust you?”

“She was going to kill you,” I said, somewhat annoyed. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve just left you with them.”

I seemed to raise a good point, I guess, because she lowered her arm and took a step closer to me.

“How old are you?” she asked skeptically.

“Eighteen,” I said. I stuck out a hand. “I’m Maverick.”

Hesitantly, she shook my hand. “Where am I? Who were those people?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I replied. She only stared back at me, so I sighed. “They’re Wicks-witches and wizards. They wanted to sacrifice you to raise a greater demon, Astaroth. You’re lucky we were here.”

A dark silhouette passed through the house and began toward us. I took a step forward, the girl shrinking behind me. I relaxed when I saw who it was, but the girl clutched my hand tightly.

Patrick glared at me as he stalked by, heading straight for his pick-up truck, parked at the edge of the road. I shook off the girl and followed.

I didn’t dare say anything. Blood was splashed across his face, and he angrily chucked his sword in the cab. He slammed the door.

“What the hell were you thinking?” said Patrick.

I remained silent, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

He threw up his hands. “you know what? I wouldn’t even worry about what I might say. Be worried about what Gerard is going to say. You almost got yourself killed! Imagine how we would have felt then. Two-Bit was supposed to protect you! If you died, I’m not sure what that kind of guilt would do to him. It would destroy him.”

I dropped my eyes to the ground.

“Before rushing off to be the hero, think of your family.”

“Patrick,” a sharp voice stopped his rant. “That’s enough.”

I slowly turned and faced the man. Dark green eyes met mine and told me all I needed to know: I messed up.

Gerard stepped toward me, putting a hand on my chin to get a better look at my face.

He frowned. “Get that looked at, okay?” he said. Then he turned his gaze over to the girl, smiling softly. “Are you okay, darling?”

She nodded. Gerard handed me his weapons and took her elbow in his hand, leading her off a little way.

I opened the truck door and put the knives in their cases, gently wiping each down beforehand.

Heavy feet crunched down on the gravel,coming toward the truc. I pretended not to hear and continued to clean the blades.

“Are ye all alright?”Two-Bit’s gruff voice was quieter, and I realized he was trying to whisper.

“Maverick’s a bit bruised,” Patrick said, “but it’s mostly his pride that’s hurt. Otherwise we’re fine. How’re you? How’s August?”

“Good,” he said. “August is taking care er things back there. Making sure there’s no evidence.”

“He lighting it up?”

“Yeah.” Two-Bit let out a heavy sigh. “I love that kid, ya know? But one er these days he’s bound to get himself in ter something bad.”

Somehow I doubted they were talking about my Uncle August.

“I know what you mean,” Patrick said. “It’s like he doesn’t realize what could happen. He doesn’t know how other Wicks are.”

“Don’t ya dare say that,” Two-Bit snapped. “Maverick is nothing like them. He’s no Wick.”

Patrick’s voice was soft, but his words were daggers. “I know he’s not a Wick. He’s a Odin.”

I tossed down my knife with more force than I expected and the whole toolbox clashed as it fell to the bottom of the truck. I looked up at the two of them, and I knew that they knew I had heard every word.

“Mav-” Patrick started.

I could already feel my face growing hot, tears gathering in my eyes. “I don’t want to hear it,” I said.

I pushed past them and made my way back to the house, which now burned like a torch. August stood at the edge of the property, watching his handiwork. I stopped next to him.

Sometimes words don’t need to be spoken to know that someone’s there for you. August gets that. For a few moments, we just stood and watched as the farmhouse burned. In a few days, nothing would be left but a pile of charred wood, and we would be long gone.

I guess in a way we were ghosts.

August gave me a comforting pat on the shoulder before he worked his way over to the others. After a minute, I followed.

My name might be Odin, but I’m a Guthrie through and through. As far as my biological family is concerned, I’m dead. I left when I was eight. I don’t remember why.

Actually, I don’t remember them at all.

Maybe I was abused. I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that my first eight years are a complete blur. I couldn’t even tell you what my own mother looked like, or even if I had a mother. My first real memory is waking up in the Guthrie house, sun shining down from the window. I remember being terribly scared.

And then I met Gerard. He took me in. He gave me a place to stay when I had no where else to go. Am I upset my biological family never came knocking? Maybe a little bit. But Gerard didn’t just raise me-he taught me how to fight. He told me about the Wicks, and let me into his world.

“Maverick.”

I looked up and the redhead girl was watching me. There was a strange sparkle behind her eyes.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she said. “Your dad told me everything. It sounds crazy, but right now it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

I nodded. “When he first told me I couldn’t believe it either. But trust me, it’ll get easier.” I offered a sympathetic smile.

She pursed her lips. “Look, I know you have to leave soon, but there’s still so many questions I have.”

I looked around. Neither Patrick’s truck nor August’s were started. I shrugged. “Shoot.”

She grinned. “How many Wicks are there?”

I shrugged again. “I’m not really sure. Enough to keep us busy, I guess.”

“Are all Wicks bad?” she asked. “Obviously, those ones were bad, but are there any good Wicks?”

I froze. The smile melted from her face.

“What? Is something wrong?”She took a step closer to me. I took a step back.

“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Jackie,” she said.

“Jackie, those were bad Wicks,” I said slowly. “And they get a lot worse, too. In all my years, I’ve never come across a good Wick. Or at least not one like me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re a Wick?”

“Gerard adopted me,” I explained. “I came from a family of Wicks. They’re considered the most powerful Wicks, and they’re the worst of them, too. They’ve done things far worse than what those Wicks were trying to do to you. And I don’t know why I’m not like that. Somehow I’m different.”

Jackie slowly raised a hand, and I took it in mine. “I’m glad you’re not like them. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead by now.”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Take care of yourself,” I said.

“I will.”

I could faintly hear sirens in the distance. August honked the car horn and I climbed into the back seat of his four-door truck. Jackie would be found, and then she’d be taken home.

And as for us, we had already disappeared.

Like ghosts.