Caffeine and Magix

You can read mine below or here (X)! This one is yet another WIP lol. Good job everyone who participated, I can’t wait to read yours!

I’m on a bus before I know it, my sister’s voice still ringing in my ears.

“Mom’s dead. They’re calling in a new Sheriff.”

It’s been years since I’ve been home, but I know what that means. There’ll be blood in our county before the month’s up and, with Sis pregnant with her second, that’s something Abbey’s can’t afford.

So I break the promise I made when I was sixteen and I come home. Mom’s not around to care though, so it’s hardly like there was much of a promise to break anyway.

Judging by Orisa’s face, she doesn’t agree.

“I told you not to come,” she says when I jump off the bus. She’s got a toddler by the hand and her belly is swollen with another child. For all that, she’s still got a whole belt of stakes slung over her shoulder.

“You’re expecting trouble,” I say, chin jerking to the wood. “I had to.” I drop my bag at my feet and squat down with a friendly smile. “Ara? Is that you? But, it can’t be, you’re so big!”

The little girl, hair the color of sunlight, ducks behind her mother’s legs, amber eyes distrustful.

“I saw you when you were a baby,” I say to the little girl. She’s got her mama’s freckles, only a shade darker than her brown skin. She’s beautiful. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”

“The locals certainly remember you,” Orisa tells me. “What are you thinking, Mable, coming back now?”

I exhale through my nose and stand. “I’m thinking that we’re in Sheriff-less territory and you’re the late lady’s daughter, Orisa. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“They like me here,” Orisa says, white teeth flashing. “You coming back is only going to stoke the fires, Mable. You know that.”

I keep my smile pleasant, aware of Ara’s eyes on me. “The fires are already stoked, Orisa. You should know that.”

Her dark eyes flash. They’re like night, big and dark, and so unlike her daughter’s. I know Ara gets her eyes from her dad, which is a shame. Orisa’s got some of the best night vision in the family. “I can take care of myself. I’ve had to.”

And, well, there isn’t anything I can say to that. I reach down and grab my bag, slinging the beat up leather over my shoulder and gesture to the parking lot. “You drive here? I wanna get settled before nightfall.”

Orisa stares hard at me for another moment. I know she recognizes the stubborn cut of my jaw when she sighs and readjusts her grip on Ana’s hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I drove here.”

She leads me to the car.

—————————————

The house is like I remember it, one of those big, ranch styles the county favors. It’s been the same color red–the color of the Sheriff’s house–for thirty years, before I was born. Once the new Sheriff gets here, we’ll have to paint it blue or gray and I try to imagine it. Gray paint against the brown scrubland behind it under bright blue sky.

I can’t picture it at all, but that’s not saying much. When I was a kid, I couldn’t picture toys or a swing in the front yard, but they’re there now. Ara breaks off from us to go play, uninterested in Aunt Mable now that we’re back home. Orisa is a better mom than our Mom was, that’s for sure.

“Ara has your old room,” Orisa tells me, butting open the screen with her hip. The front hall is dimly lit, the front table littered with old keys. Orisa took on the job of Crypt Keeper when our father died. “I’ll put you in the guest room.”

“That’s fine,” I say even though she didn’t ask if it was. I follow her down the hall, past the kitchen and living room, to the basement stairs. This, at least, is well lit, track lights falling down the stairwell at even intervals. The guest rooms down here are soundproof and lightproof. They also have heavy, iron and silver locks leftover from the days when they weren’t exactly guest quarters. “Anyone else visiting?”

“Just ghosts,” Orisa says absently. She stops in front of the door furthest from the stairs; the old guard’s room. She pulls a key from her jeans and I wonder if she had it since she picked me up. I didn’t see her pocket it upstairs. “Mom never got the screens set up right, so don’t bother trying to spy on the house.” She opens the door.

There are computer screens lining one whole wall, dark and silent. I raise my eyebrows at them, sliding past Orisa to drop my bag on the rickety twin bed across from them. “Whoa.”

“Mom’s apprentice set them up,” she says, leaning against the door frame. “Said it was time to take the Sheriff into the 21st century.”

I whirl. “Apprentice? She took on an apprentice?” I can’t help feeling hurt and I know it shows in my face.

“Yeah,” Orisa says, face hard. “She did. And she lost him too.”

“Oh,” I say. I blink at the screens, brow furrowing. “So he–” I cut myself off, unsure how to ask. Did they get him? Or did he get himself?

“All brain,” Orisa says, “and no brawn. The opposite of you.”

I frown and look at her. She’s not meeting my eyes, staring at my bag like her glare can make it go up in flames. “Mom wanted me to leave, Orisa. It wasn’t my choice.”

“Funny thing,” Orisa says, “because that’s what I used to say too.” Her eyes collide with mine, night against night. “It didn’t work for me, so why the hell should it work for you?”

“Orisa–”

She turns on her heel and slams the door behind her, leaving me alone in the guard’s room. I hear her clomping up the stairs, back to the main house.

I look at the screens on the wall and purse my lips. Might as well keep busy until sun down.

I roll up my sleeves and get to work.

—————————————————-

Orisa comes back when the sun sets, huffing as she takes care coming down the stairs. I’m surprised she’s been up as long as she has in her six month, but that’s the Abbey women for you.

Stupid.

She opens the door to my room without knocking and blinks at the blue glow over everything. Three of the eight screens are still dark, but I’ve managed to sort out the wiring to the other five. Only three cameras of those five are still serviceable, but it’ll do.

“When’d you learn to do that?” Orisa asks. It’s a peace offering, as good of an apology as you’re like to get in this family.

“I’ve been gone a long time,” I say. “I should’ve remembered that.” Which is about as much of an apology as I can give.

Orisa’s lips quirk up. “Yeah. You should’ve.” She comes in and eases herself down onto the bed, groaning as her weight comes off her feet. “Listen. We’re getting some company tonight.”

I tense. “Who?”

“Simon,” Orisa says. She exhales. “And the new Sheriff.”

“What?” I surge to my feet, desk chair flying back to hit the wall. “They already decided? Who?” My brain processes the first part of her statement. “Simon? What happened to Anton?”

“What do you think happened to Anton?” she retorts. “Simon killed him in 2008. Vampire politics.” She sees the look on my face. “He’s a good leader, Mable. He’s done right by them.”

I purse my lips and look away. I don’t like it, but I haven’t been here. I have to trust Orisa’s judgement. For now. “And the new Sheriff?”

“An out of towner,” Orisa says. She shifts on the bed, wincing as she tries to get comfortable. “They wanted someone in ASAP and, well, there aren’t exactly any candidates in town.”

I yank the thin pillow from between the wall and the mattress and hand it to her. “New blood in town means more in fighting. New Sheriff will be targeted, tensions rise… Please tell me Abir is back.”

“Not yet,” Orisa sighs. Her husband is an ambassador and a scholar, disappearing for months at a time. I’ve met him and liked him the few times our paths have crossed. I’m not liking him now. “But we’ll be fine. You’re here.”

“I am,” I say. “But it’s only a matter of time before they run me out of town, especially with Simon as their leader.”

Orisa raises her eyebrows. “You’d let them run you out of town?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Because if I didn’t, they’d come here.” Like they did when I was sixteen. I had no doubt they’d be better at it now.

Orisa studies me for a long moment. “You have changed.”

“I’ve had to,” I say. I finally take a seat next to her, propping one leg on the bed so I can sit facing her. “Tell me about the new blood. Where’s he from?”

————————————————-

I meet Christian Dowell (literally his name is Christian) on the front porch, arms folded and stakes bare at my hip. He shows up in a black camry, nearly tripping over some of the rougher patches of gravel on the way up to the house. He’s blond and blue-eyed and so green I half expect him to smell like grass.

He slows when he sees me. “Um, you’re not Ms. Abbey.” His hands go to his belt where he’s got an old vamp killing gun. Five seconds. Amateur.

“Sure I am,” I say and smile with all my teeth. He makes the mistake of relaxing when he doesn’t spot fangs. He’s new if he doesn’t know the older ones can hide their teeth. “Just not the one you were expecting.”

His gaze sharpens. “You’re Mable Abbey.”

“At least you know that much,” I mutter. I drop my arms and step off the porch. “They give you a file on the town?”

“Just on the dangerous citizens,” he says, showing a surprising amount of guts. “You were in the top ten.”

I almost argue that I’m not a citizen, but I really am. I don’t have a license or a title. Not anymore. “Sounds like someone was pulling your leg. I’m not dangerous. But I hope you are, Sheriff.”

He swells, chest puffing up. “I got the job, didn’t I? What do you think?”

“That they’re not using my mother’s standards,” I say sweetly. I turn on my heel, not at all concerned about giving him my back. “Orisa! You’re guest is here!”

“Goddamnit!” Orisa curses from inside the house. “I told you to leave him alone!”

“I did,” I say, gaining the porch just as she bursts through the screen door. “Look at him, all in one piece.”

“Ms. Abbey,” Christian says, coming up to give Orisa his hand. “Lovely to meet you in person.”

“Sure,” Orisa says. She squints down the road. “Look, I have a three-year-old to put down, so I’d really like to get this done. Where’s Simon?”

“The Mayor,” Christian says. He takes off his hat. “He’s not here yet?”

“Oh don’t call him that,” I say, “that just makes him sound legitimate.”

“He should call me that,” a male voice says from behind me. I spin, stakes already in hand and a snarl on my lips. The dark-haired man at the edge of the porch gives me a half-smile, showing off one, long fang. “Since I am legitimate. Mable. I didn’t know you were in town.”

Behind him is a woman I’ve never seen before. Long, red hair, deep set eyes, the sort of freckles that might make you think she’s the sort to go out in the sun. I know within a second that she’s not.

“You were supposed to come alone,” I say, not relaxing my stance.

Orisa steps up behind me and frowns. “Simon, who’s this?”

“My Deputy,” Simon says smoothly. “Siobhan.”

{END TIME OH NO!!! Definitely in the project pile!}