Witch Island (19 page)

Julie put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I’ve wanted you since the day we first met. I’ve thought about you almost every day, knowing we were meant to be together. All I had to do was wait. I knew we’d work out, but it had to be when you were ready. We’re here now, together. I’ve waited long enough, haven’t you? I want to be with you, tonight, now. I need you inside me, our bodies as one.”

Steve swallowed. He wasn’t breathing, then remembered to, and inhaled. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, and he felt the same. They were kindred spirits, meant to be together. He’d known it when they first met, just as she had said. It was inexplicable, but now that he was free from Kelly, his mind was clear.

He reached in to kiss her, but she held out her arm, a very strong arm. She shook her head, keeping her eyes locked onto his. “No. Not until you’re naked, like me.”

Giving in to his desires, Steve kicked off his sneakers, socks, then pulled off his T-shirt and jeans, leaving him in only his boxers, tented from his erection. Julie arched her eyebrows, then nodded toward his crotch.

“Those too,” she said.

Steve slid them off. He was naked, standing in front of a girl he thought he was minutes away from falling in love with. Kelly was such a distant memory, yet he she kept popping into his head. She would never have done anything like this. She made him feel like his nakedness was something to be ashamed of, that his body was lanky, not appealing. Man, she had done a number on him.

Now, he felt more secure about himself than ever. He didn’t have the biggest dick in the world, but it was average-sized, and did the job—even making Kelly moan and squirm with pleasure. She’d complained and bitched about a lot of things, but his penis wasn’t one of them.

He went to move to her, but she shook her head. “I said everything, you naughty boy.”

“That’s everything.”

“That thing on your finger…” she said, sounding cold.

“This?” he asked, holding up his hand. “This is the deal breaker?”

Julie nodded.

“Then off it comes,” he said, sliding the ring from his finger. He bent and tucked the ring into the pocket of his jeans.

Before he knew it, Julie was all over him, kissing his neck and touching below. They kissed, and he cupped a hand over her right breast. He was on the brink of exploding.

The witch wanted to play, to make the boy suffer. She should’ve had time, but there was a new presence on the island. Two more souls had come to her, and she needed to see to them, consume them. Julie hadn’t been expecting anyone else, but Julie was sort of an outsider, not a group regular.

“Are you expecting anyone else to come to the island tonight?” the witch asked, still standing, as Steve was kissing his way to her breasts.

“What?” he asked, sounding confused.

The witch lifted his head up to hers. “Is the group expecting anyone else tonight?”

“No, of course not. It’s just us. Why?”

The witch sighed, knowing she would have to move quickly and see what was going on. She needed to be in control of the island again, which meant leaving the girl’s body.

“Because we have company.”

“We do? I don’t under—”

The witch shoved Steve’s chin up, exposing his neck. She sprang forward and clamped her mouth around his Adam’s apple, bit down and tore it free. Blood spewed forth, covering her face. Steve’s eyes were bulging in shock, his body shaking. The witch spat out the meat, then forced Steve’s mouth open, breaking the jaw so that it hung loosely. She clamped down onto his tongue with her teeth and ripped out the taste-bud-laden muscle. She held him with one hand while she chewed, devouring the flesh quickly.

The boy was still alive. He struggled weakly, his arms and legs losing most of their strength.

The witch shoved him to the ground and dove on top of him. Concentrating on her fingers, she made them steel-like strong, then tore into Steve’s chest, cracking through the breastbone. She reached his still-beating heart, blood filling his chest cavity, and tore it free before sucking it dry.

Covered in red, her body glistening under the moonlight, the witch stood, feeling new power surge through her. The boy was dead. She needed to absorb his essence into her, into the island. She was free to roam in the girl’s body as well as in her spirit form, but was still not strong enough to leave her prison. The devil’s barrier had kept her weak. Her spirit would always be bound to her bones, unless they were burned or destroyed, in which case she would either perish or be free to claim another’s. But for now, with enough blood, enough soul essence, possessing a host, she would be able leave the cursed island.

The witch reached up and sank her nails into Julie’s throat, tearing away the flesh. She had liked Julie’s body. It would have been fun to use it against the others.

The witch left Julie’s body, becoming one with the island again. There, she would be able to absorb Steve’s flesh and blood properly, then move on to Julie’s, before she headed to the other side of the island to see about the new arrivals.

Julie had control of her body again. Pain and fright overwhelmed her senses.

She had been witness to a nightmare, unable to do a thing about it. From when she was inside the hexagon, to stripping naked and killing Steve, she hadn’t been herself. Something had been in control of her. Shay and she had released something when they removed the spikes, she was sure of it.

She’d seen herself tear her own throat out, but at the time, had not felt a thing, thinking maybe the whole thing was a bad dream, but now she knew it was real, and knew she was dying. Her throat was on fire. She could barely breathe, each inhalation accompanied by a wet, gurgling sound that made her cough. She was drowning in her own blood.

She looked down at herself, and saw her naked form covered in red. Stumbling forward, she wanted to run and warn the others. Her strength was fading quickly. She fell to her knees, hoping she could make it to her friends. She wouldn’t be able to tell them anything, but her mere condition would alert them, get them to leave the island. Gwen was a nurse—maybe, just maybe, she could save Julie. Do something for her until they got her to a hospital.

On her knees, the world tuning out, Julie knew her fate was sealed. The red kept pouring out of her, lathering the ground in a silky sheen.

She collapsed sideways, rolling onto her back. Panic seized her last moments, and she wished she could be with her family one last time. She had so much left that she wanted to do, accomplish.

Her lungs begged for air, her body convulsing, but none came. She stiffened, felt nothing but serenity, then knew no more.

Chapter Seventeen

They had flashlights, but didn’t need to use them as they crossed the lake. Rowing sucked, Billy thought, but it would be worth it when he and Damien were done with their mission and sitting back with a fat joint and some booze, waiting for the show to begin.

From a distance, Billy hadn’t seen any light coming from the island, campfire or artificial, which was a good thing. It meant he and Damien wouldn’t be seen as they approached. Jim and his asshole friends were probably a ways in, wanting to avoid being seen, at least that’s what he’d have done.

They kept close to the island, moving slowly through the water, looking for where the assholes might’ve pulled their boats onto land. A minute later, Billy saw the trees give way to a grassy clearing. “There,” he said, pointing. “They must’ve docked there.”

They rowed to shore. Billy grinned at seeing the trampled grass. Then he saw the canoes. He scanned the area, listening. “I don’t think anyone’s around.”

“Yeah, they’re inland for sure,” Damien said.

Faint laughter sounded in the distance.

“We have to do this quickly,” Billy whispered. “Sounds like they’re all set and having a good time, but you never know when one of them assholes might wander back to check on the boats.”

Billy and Damien hopped out and pulled the boat farther onto the land, but keeping it near the shore in the event they needed a fast getaway.

The original plan was to drill holes in the canoes, then watch from across the lake as Jim and his friends screamed and hollered that their boats were sinking. It would’ve been a riot, and worth staying up all night for. But now, Billy was having second thoughts.

“Dude,” Billy said, crouching next to the rowboat, “I don’t think we can drill the canoes.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll make too much noise. Someone might hear it and come check it out.”

“So, let’s just push the things in the water.”

Billy thought for a moment. He wanted so badly to put holes in the canoes—that was the plan,
his
plan—but he couldn’t risk getting caught. There would be property damage done. His father wouldn’t be able to get him out of it. He’d have to pay for the repairs, which would kill him financially and mentally. Those rich pricks didn’t deserve shit, and there was no way he was paying for anything that was owned by them.

Billy nodded. “It won’t be as funny as watching them sink, but it’s good enough.”

They crept up to one of the canoes and shoved it into the water, then did the same with the other canoe.

“Bon voyage,” Damien said, laughing quietly. “This is too cool.”

“Wish we could do more,” Billy said, “like scare the shit out of them or steal their booze, but we can’t take a chance of them seeing us.”

“Fuck it,” Damien said. “Let’s get the hell out of here and smoke that joint.” He turned to head back to the rowboat and almost fell, his left foot refusing to budge. “What the fuck?” he cried.

“Shut up, man,” Billy said. “You want us to get caught?”

“Something’s got my foot. It’s stuck.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Dude, my foot’s tangled in the grass, like totally knotted up. I can’t even see my shoes.”

“Quiet down, you moron,” Billy demanded, walking over to him.

Damien watched as the grass slithered up his leg to his knee. “I think I’m tripping, man.” Panic set in. He couldn’t be tripping; he hadn’t taken anything, unless he was having some strange flashback that wasn’t really a flashback but something else. Shit, whatever was happening had to be real. Then he remembered where they were.

“Shit, man,” he cried, struggling to get free. “Get this shit off me.”

Billy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d thought his friend was goofing around, being an idiot, but he wasn’t. Damien’s lower left leg was completely wrapped in green. “What the hell is going—” The words were cut short as more grass sprang toward Damien’s right leg, entwining it like the left one.

Damien was crying now, pulling at his legs, trying to get free. “It hurts, man. It realty hurts.” Blood oozed from between the individual strands, the grass tightening itself around Damien’s leg.

“Hold on, dude,” Billy said, and pulled his folding knife out of his back pocket. “I’ll cut you free.”

A vine shot from the darkness and into Damien’s mouth, immediately silencing his cries. Billy watched his friend’s hands clamp around the thing, trying to stop it, but the vine continued its course. Damien’s cheeks bulged. Blood exploded from his nostrils. His throat thickened as the vine continued onward, working its way down his throat and into his stomach. Damien’s body was shaking, blood spurting from the corners of his mouth.

Billy stood frozen in place, having forgotten about his little knife. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, the impossibility of it. His friend was being attacked by nature, fucking nature. He remembered his dad’s words, the warnings and the stories about the island.

Blood covered the front of Damien’s shirt as it oozed from his mouth, nose and ears. He arched his neck to look at Billy, pure terror on his face, when his right eyeball popped from the socket, shoved out by the vine.

Damien stopped struggling. His arms fell to his sides, his entire body limp, held upright by the vine, like some human meat puppet. Two more vines shot from the woods, piercing Damien’s corpse, filling him. Then Damien exploded, the vines tearing him apart, scattering his innards everywhere, as if he’d swallowed a grenade.

Something inside Billy screamed at him to move, and he finally did. Stumbling the first few steps, he managed an all-out sprint. He felt the grasses try to wrap themselves around his feet, but he was moving too fast, his momentum snapping the strands before too many had a chance to entangle him.

Billy reached the boat and didn’t slow. He tackled it like a linebacker and shoved it into the water, throwing himself inside. He felt a modicum of relief as the boat sailed away from the island. He pulled out his cell phone, speed-dialed his father, then tucked it between his ear and shoulder. Finding the oars, he started to row. The phone slipped and fell, landing with a clunk on the bottom of the boat.

Damn it. He stopped rowing and searched almost blindly in the darkness for the phone. His flashlight was back on the island. He found the thin back cover, the phone having come apart—like it always did when it fell. Continuing to search, he finally found it. The battery was still inside. He clamped on the cover, then restarted the phone, the thing seeming to take forever.