I am surrounded by people in either pressed suits, leather jackets, or running shoes; my dirty sweater that covers my hands and falls below my knees makes me stand out, so my shoulders hunch, and I shrink myself down, trying to disappear into the crowd. New York is a boisterous place that is both beautiful and utterly terrifying. It's loud. It's loud everywhere we walk, and I feel as if my eardrums will pop after every shout or car horn goes off. But people on the streets ignore me completely. No one looks at me because I don't matter to them. It is the most freeing thing in the world.

​

The people act as if they are invincible. They walk into traffic without hesitation. Like the rest of them, Sam doesn’t glance at anyone, just stares straight ahead. Despite his wrinkled and dirt-covered clothes, he struts down the sidewalk like he owns the world. His hair is pulled back into a little bun, and his dad's jean jacket makes his small frame appear even smaller.

​

I stop at the light waiting, but he keeps going. Confused, my eyes dart towards the stoplight and back to where he disappears in the crowd. It seems people in New York don't care much for rules. A small smirk pulls at my lips at the thought of how angry my coven leaders would be if they knew this. They make sure each young witch has the human laws drilled into their heads so that if we ever find ourselves in their world, we will appear normal, like we belong, and yet it seems to be for nothing.

 

I catch myself in the reflection of a clothing store window, but I hardly recognize it’s me. It's still my pale skin, small frame with arms that are too long, the same eyes the colour of melted silver, but there is something wrong with those eyes now. They know too much; they have seen too many things. And the hair—hair that used to be light brown is now pure white, a symbol to let witches know what I am.

​

A traitor.

​

"Maeve, what the fuck are you doin'?" Sam shouts. Now he’s standing in the middle of the junction, I hadn't even noticed that he turned back. He gestures for me to hurry; I follow him with one last glance at the window and then the stoplight.

​

Sam stomps down the street and people move out of his way, while I stumble beside him, trying to keep up. The closer we get to Ayaan's hospital, the harder it becomes not to throw up. I feel so sick that I don't even look around. I don't look at the people or buildings; I just look down at the ground, praying this will be over soon.

 

“You still on board, right?” Sam asks faintly. “With the plan?”

​

“Of course,” I lie. My heart thumps in my chest, and I try to smile but it feels wrong. I regret making that promise to him last night, but I fear what he will do if I break my word.

​

“I’ll finally be happy. After we do Ayaan’s job, I’ll have enough money to go home. I’ll finally be happy.” He says this as if he’s trying to convince himself it’s true.

​

His wish and my promise to accept Ayaan's job come with so many things he does not understand. He thinks he knows the supernatural world, but some things humans will never comprehend. To him, this is all amazing, but witches are not creatures you cross lightly—I know this more than anyone. He has lumped all creatures into the same bundle, but witches are not the same.

​

We arrive fairly quickly, and as Sam goes to do the special knock, I say, "I don't want to go inside." I can't take seeing more of the blood and death. Mostly, I don't want to see the looks of hatred that follow me.

​

"Ayaan won't give me the job if you aren't there!"

​

"Theahxee will see me. She will tell him I'm outside." In a place deep down, I hope she doesn't. I hope they send him away because he can't hate me for that.

​

"Maeve—"

​

"Please," I whisper. I fill the word with all the fear I feel, begging him not to make me go. He looks irritated, and mutters something under his breath before knocking. The door opens quickly and there is nothing on the other side until a pale green hand darts out and yanks us through the door. I feel the invisible barrier shudder as we walk through, shielding the supernatural world from the human one. The inside looks like any other New York building Sam showed me, but the feeling is different—I think it's the walls. They seem to crackle as if they're alive.

 

Theahxee, the goblin who guards the hospital, closes the heavy door with only her foot. With a gun in her hand, a sword strapped to her leg, she takes a brief look down her long nose at us, then places her gun back in the holster.

​

"There's gonna be blood in the air soon; if you ain't helping you best leave," Theahxee mutters. She pulls her gun back out to check the bullets; finding it fully loaded, she puts it away before starting the whole process over again. I'm almost hypnotized by her gun, I don't understand her words until a second later.

​

"What do you mean? What's happening?" Sam asks.

​

Her face relaxes slightly. "Some elves were attacked by hunters, the survivors just got here, and with no one takin' that job, we might be compromised."

​

The job. The job I was offered—to hunt down the rat. The only way to find them would be by going to where the hunters take the creatures they keep alive—one of the witches' delivery locations.

​

"We're here to accept the job," Sam announces with pride.

​

Theahxee stares me down. “You're a little late, witch." She uses the word as a curse, and I can't find it in me to blame her.

​

Sam steps in front of me, "She ain't a witch anymore." A smile breaks out over my cracked lips, no one has ever stood up for me before.

​

"Banshee, then." It's not much better, but at least she's calling me something true, even if the word wraps itself around my throat.

​

Ayaan darts into the hallway, his ghutra is secured on his head, and his mouth is stained red. The vampire must have been feeding, preparing for the coming battle.

​

"How are you sure they know about this place? I was just cast out—there was never any mention of a place like this." I try to sound stern like the elders do, but my voice squeaks giving away my real age.

​

"It's a smaller party coming, and we know word hasn't spread yet."

​

There is only one way for them to be sure. "You have a seer." They are rare, so rare it is almost impossible. The only one I knew about was an old man named Waylon, who sat next to the Mother of Witches on the council. He would never betray the Mother, which means one is hidden. Ayaan's smirk is the only confirmation I need.

​

"You know so much and yet so little."

​

I guess Sam was right, I may know about witches, but I am clueless about everything else.

​

Ayaan is quick to continue. "Now, what are you two doing here?"

​

"We’re just—we’re just here to find out if you have another job for us because we don’t want the other one," I say before Sam can speak. Once the last word leaves my lips, I see the betrayed look flash across Sam's face. Before I can take it back, the door we are standing in front of trembles.

​

Theahxee’s gun is in her hands in seconds, and Ayaan pulls Sam and me down the hallway. My hand grazes the wall; it flinches from my touch.

​

“The barrier…I’ve always wanted to know, is it witch magic?” Sam wonders aloud, though he doesn’t look me in the eye.

​

“It's old fairy magic that keeps it up,” Ayaan answers. I’m too busy trying to apologize with only a look.

​

“Huh—well at least today is gonna be interesting…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, too horrified by what lies in the next room. We enter the main part of the building where the cots are laid out. I notice the medical equipment set up all over the room first. There's a glass case filled with pills and a fridge of blood bags in the corner. 

​

The floor vibrates, and I clench onto Sam's hand.

​

"It's the subway," he quietly tells me, though I think he’s lying. Still holding onto his hand, I gaze at the ten or so elves in the room, their skin colours vary, but there's this unnatural shine to them. One of the healers kneels on the side of a cot, pushing their hands hard onto an elf's chest.

​

"Come on, breathe," the healer keeps murmuring. The elf's face is pale, eyes wide open, and I know if I touched their cheek, they would be cold.

​

"Anyone injured needs to get themselves to my office down the hall," Ayaan shouts.

​

"Sir, I'm still working on her."

​

Ayaan darts over and whispers quickly to the healer, and their hands start to slow down until they stop entirely. Most of the elves are running towards Ayaan's office, but one with tears streaking down her brown cheek marches towards the cot. There is gauze wrapped around their head with a patch of blood on one side. One of the hunters must have chopped their ear off.

​

"Don't stop. My wife is dying," the elf demands, though her voice rattles and cracks.  

"Branwyn, I'm sorry, but she is lost to us—" The sound of gunfire cuts him off. "You must go and protect your people."

​

Branwyn breaks away from Ayaan, collapsing over her wife’s prone body. "Honey, we made it; you gotta wake up. Please," she sobs. She pushes on her wife's chest like the healer did, but then she's throwing her fists down hard. After another shot, Ayaan grabs Branwyn, dragging her away to his office. She screams the whole way there and I wipe away the tears that start to fall down my cheek. There’s no time for tears.

​

I look towards Sam and find him with his eyes wide open in terror. His whole body is shaking, and I have to push him forward to get him moving.

​

Theahxee races into the room, holding her stomach together with her hands. Blood is pouring out of her, but she still stumbles towards us.

​

"They got through, I killed three, boarded the door in the hallway, but they will get it down." She finds it in her to speak right before she falls, and the healer catches her just in time to stop her head from smacking into the cement floor.

 

I try to run, but I keep slipping on the blood covering the white tiles. I feel the hairs on my arms start to raise. Then everyone's hair on top of their head raises up and the roar of the portal becomes deafening.

 

"What's doing this," Sam yells while trying to yank his hair down with one hand while the other is trying to keep me steady.

​

"It's the portal," I yell. "Do you have anything to protect the door?" If a portal is opened, we’ll die.

​

Ayaan runs past the people in the room and opens a drawer; pulling a small potion out, he hands it to me. It's muted orange, and I know it's a shield potion after a quick smell. Without a witch to hold it up, it won't be strong enough once they start attacking it. It will give us a couple of minutes, but then they will get in.

​

I watch as Ayaan tries to settle everyone in the room. A child is crying, and Branwyn is huddled in the corner with tears streaming silently down her face.

​

I look over at Sam, hunched over in the corner, trying to settle the child. I know what I have to do. At least to save him. To save the boy who took care of me when I was banished to an alleyway. I have to because he doesn't deserve what they will do if they find him alive. I don’t know if the shield will hold for my plan but, it’s their only hope. 

 

I toss the potion to Ayaan and tell him to spread it in front of the door.

​

“Maeve!” Sam screams, but I'm already gone, and with a final glance, I see Ayaan doing as I said before I turn the corner. The walls shake as the portal is almost opened. The sound of the door being thrown open echoes in the room. I dart under the cot that the dead elf lays atop of, and the sick feeling gets stronger the closer I get to her.

 

I hear stomping footsteps getting louder until five hunters enter the room. A rush of energy surges, the portal opens, and something enters through. My hands tremble, and I place my palm over my mouth to smother my weeping. I see their boots, and one of the hunters comes over to the cot. My body goes stiff as they check the dead elf.

​

"Dead," her voice sounds disappointed. "Pass me some jars so we can harvest supplies."

 

"Not yet. We get the others first, they'll be fresh." This voice I recognize, he's an elder from another coven—Alphonse. My body shakes from fear but also pure rage. My jaw clenches tight for a second. I forgot I'm no longer a witch as I try and pull my magic out to suck all the air from his lungs. Nothing happens, but my throat aches—there's this itch that I need to get rid of.

​

"They must be in the back room," one of the hunters says, and with the thought of seeing Sam's dead body lying on the ground, I let out a scream that makes the walls shudder and the floor crack. I let my new power loose. I let the death that I carry in my lungs out, and I pray that the shield doesn't fracture.

 

They all cry out in pain before all at once their corpses drop to the floor. Alphonse's head faces me, his eyes have burst open, the mix of blood, liquified brain and eye spatter drip down his face. The same is pouring from his ears, and his mouth is open wide like he's stuck shrieking in pain. I stay under the cot, looking away from their bodies. I’m ashamed of what I have become, but I can't find it in me to feel any guilt. Not for him, not for any of them.

​

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I dart away in fear, covering my face with my hands.

​

"Whoa, it's me," Sam says, and then he waits, giving me a minute to calm down. He helps me crawl out from under the cot and steps in my way so I can't see the bodies. "You're good, kid, you're okay."

​

I usually remind him that he's fourteen, that he’s only two years older than me, but I don't feel like saying it now. Instead, I whisper, "I wanna go now.”

​

He nods before turning towards Ayaan. He’s the only one there. I can hear the whispers and groans of pain coming from his office.

​

"Sam says you want to take the job, is that true?"

​

Sam pleads with his eyes, but murmurs, "You don't have to; I'll figure out another way." Except the way he says it, I know he really doesn't mean it. He wants this more than anything.

​

I grip his jacket. I remember the way his voice shook while speaking of his dad, and I can't find it in me to say no. He's my only friend, he deserves to find his home.

​

I nod to Ayaan.

​

"Okay, you'll get the money when the job's done."

​

"We want double," Sam argues. "Half-a-mil for each of us because this shit just got more dangerous." Ayaan goes to argue, but Sam cuts him off. “We're just kids. Remember?"

 

Peeking out of Sam's side, I see Ayaan looking towards the dead elves’ cot. Once he turns back to us, he gives a nod then leaves.

​

We're left alone in the room, and I finally speak, "Where I take you...you can never show anyone. It will get you killed."

​

"I know. I know.” He shuffles his feet.

​

I look away from him, not wanting to see his face when I say, "They’ll be there tomorrow at 10 p.m. exactly. That's always when Cyrus would leave through the portal to get the special deliveries."

​

"Special?"

 

"When we need more parts," I answer in shame, thinking of Branwyn's missing ear. "The drive there will be a couple of hours. Then we’ll have to walk the rest of the way through the woods.” Sam takes a deep breath in before nodding.

​

Branwyn enters the room first and she stumbles to her wife’s cot, looking at her body for a second before she crawls in beside her. Cradling her limp body, her tears have stopped but now it’s as if she is no longer here at all.

​

The healer carries Theahxee into the room and gently places her on another cot. As the healer starts working on her stomach wound, Theahxee looks towards me. "I think Witch Killer is a better name for you." Just as she says it, I see the ghosts of my coven standing near the wall.

​

Faced with their burned bodies, I can't help but agree. 

​

I say nothing as the pain in my stomach grows.