Witches, We (chapter 4)



The love spell takes effect on Layla.

           While Vix studiously attended class, Layla skipped. Her friend, Jamie, asked her if she felt like ditching and they fled the parking lot during lunch in Jamie's pretty blue convertible. Jamie got it when she turned sixteen. Her dad was a doctor. Layla wasn't really envious. She appreciated the rides Jamie gave her. She was, however, envious of Jessie's relationship with her father.

Layla wasn't the type to worry endlessly, but she was curious about her relation to Daughtry. She wondered if he could tell her more about her dad.

"What's with you, Layla?" Jamie asked as they sped away from the school.

"Eh. I just found out that I know someone that's related to my dad. His cousin."

"Huh. Deep."


"So, what are you gonna do?"

Layla shrugged. "I'll probably ask him about it. Wanna give me a ride over to Daughtry's?"

"Seriously? You wanna go now?"

"Sure. Can you drop me off?"


Layla felt a tiny bloom of excitement in her chest. She wondered if Daughtry had pictures of her dad, knew where he was; would tell her what he was like.

Jamie pulled up behind the blue and grey building and Layla got out. "What are you gonna do now?"

Jamie shrugged. "I'll go over to Jen's." Jen was Jamie's sister and was around Ursa's age. Jen, however, had her own apartment, paid for by her dad, of course.

Layla had a brief desire to turn around and walk home but overcame it. She walked around the building and through the front door. A mechanic who wasn't Daughtry sat behind the desk. He was pretty young and muscular. He had hair and sideburns. Other than the grease embedded into his fingers, he looked clean. She immediately liked his looks. He swiveled around to look at Layla. "Can I help you?"

"Sure. Where's Daughtry?"

"Oh, he had to go out for a minute."

Layla nodded and caught sight of the station wagon through the "employee's only" door. "Ursa left without the wagon? How'd she... Oh." The old man had given her a ride? What a pervert.

The mechanic nodded. "So, you're, what, a friend of hers?"


His brown eyes narrowed. "Really? You don't look much like her."

"Yeah, well..." If she'd heard that once, she'd heard it a million times. Ursa was taller and her height was mostly in her legs. Ursa was more intelligent and you could see it in her face. Ursa was responsible and practical, if often spastic.

But Layla had her good qualities as well. She had a cool look about her face that reflected her inner calm. She was beautiful, yet somewhat short. She was alluring, yet aloof. She knew she shouldn't envy Ursa, but it just seemed that Ursa was on a higher level.

Chris waited for more, but Layla just sat down with her backpack in her lap and poked it, lost in thought. "I'm Chris," he said after a while.


The pretty name matched her. "Your parents like Clapton?"

"I don't know."

He squinted at her. Was she just being rude, or did she really not know? "You never asked how you got your name?"

Layla sighed and Chris got the impression that he was bothering her. Then, she spoke. "My mom said that my dad picked it out, so I never got the chance to ask him."

"Oh." That could mean a lot of things: he left them, or he died, or just a bad divorce between the parents.


She certainly didn't seem to want to share. He went back to the computer, deciding not to bother her anymore.

"How long do you think he'll be?" Layla asked.

"Not very long. He's been gone a while already and he never leaves me in charge for too long." The last part was grumbled.

"Oh. Okay." Then she smirked. "Do you really want to be in charge of this dump?"

Chris was surprised at her interest. "Well, yeah. Anybody would rather be the boss than bossed around. Right?"

She shrugged. "I just want smooth sailing." She held out her hand loftily. "Going with the flow is best." She grinned in a lazy way.

He squinted at her and her backpack, finally realizing something. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

She kept grinning. "Caught on to the truant, did you? Gonna tell on me?" Was it his imagination, or was she flirting with him?

He liked it.

"Heh. No. But if anybody asks, I thought you were a college student."

Layla shrugged again. "I'm about to graduate anyway. I'm eighteen. What about you?" She looked straight into his brown eyes with her grey ones. He thought they were kind of mesmerizing and if he looked for a while, they seemed to swirl.

He cleared his throat. "I'm twenty-two."

"Hmm. That's not too old." She grinned craftily.

He stiffened in a good way. "Too old for what, exactly?" he asked, curiously. It had been too long since he'd flirted with a beautiful girl. It turned him on a little too much and he felt like rubbing himself against the underside of the desk. He struggled against the urge.

"You know, comparatively." She pointed to herself and then to him.

"Wow." He needed to get himself under control. This was ridiculous. Girls didn't affect him like this anymore. What was happening? Was this, like, love at first sight or something? Come on, it's just a boner. He forced himself to go back to the computer. He was losing it. He looked up gross things to calm down. Old men, puke, corpses. After a few minutes, he had himself under control again.

"Why are you looking at dead bodies?" Layla suddenly asked in his ear. He shot up again, like his dick was fifteen.

"Ah," he moaned. He was instantly embarrassed.

"Oh," she said calmly, looking over his shoulder at his lap. "Did you want to... make out or something?"

He turned to look at her. She wasn't joking. She really wasn't joking? "Yeah," he said, expecting her to back down.

She laughed and straddled his lap. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. I think it's your voice."

He inhaled at the sudden, wonderful contact. "Uh. I... yeah."

She wrapped her arms around him and instead of kissing him, she pressed against him as closely as possible. It felt amazing to him. He wanted her clothes off. He wanted to be inside her. He squeezed her tightly and kissed her neck, rubbing her back almost violently.

Her face was nestled in his neck and her hands crept up the back of it with her nails digging in. "Ah!" He almost came.

"I'm sorry," she whined. "I don't know what this is, but I want you. Can you, let me...?" She reached down for his zipper and had it half-way down, when he saw Erik's truck pull into the lot.

He groaned deeply. He almost didn't stop. He wanted to fuck this girl so badly that he didn't really care if his boss saw. But then, amazingly, he stood. Layla landed softly on her feet. Her eyes were glazed over and her chest was heaving.

Chris cleared his throat with difficulty. "He's back. We have to stop."

Something that looked like pain crossed her face and he almost said, "Fuck it," and nailed her to the wall. He did say, "I'm sorry. Really."

Her eyes cleared a little and she panted as she went to sit back down.

Erik walked in. He looked preoccupied, which was good because Layla was throwing off vibes like she needed to get stuck and anybody would do. Erik did a double take when he saw her. "Layla? What are you doing here?"

She sighed twice and Chris's dick twitched. He wanted that girl! "Daughtry. We're related?"

Erik's eyebrow went up. "How did you know that?"

Layla shook her head. "My mom let it slip," she said, and she shot a glance at Chris.

"Oh. So I guess you want to ask me about him. Your dad, I mean."

Layla nodded. "I want to see a picture of him."

"Yeah, I guess you would," Erik said. "Well, your mom told me to keep quiet about it, but I guess you're old enough that you don't need her permission. Wait, what are you doing out of school?"

She frowned. "I couldn't stop thinking about it..."

"Oh. I see." He sighed. "Well, I'll take you back—"

"Actually," she said cutting him off. "Chris said he'd give me a ride back to school, so..." She gave Chris a pleading look. It was so needy, it pierced him.

"Yeah, I did. No problem, really," he said to Erik, trying to appear the diligent employee.

Erik looked a little suspicious but sighed. "Actually that'd be great. I have things to do... Thanks Chris."

"Uh huh," Chris said, hardly listening as he followed Layla out the door.

"I'll find some pictures!" Erik called at Layla's back.

"Which one is yours?" Layla asked Chris.

He walked off and Layla followed him, watching his muscled ass. She didn't really know what was going on with her. She'd never gone after a guy like this. She'd never felt the urge to. But right now, all she could think about was lowering herself down onto him. She couldn't even make herself interested in learning about her dad! She had to get Chris's shirt off, and his pants off, and...

"Here," Chris said. He stopped by a black car. Layla didn't know what kind of car. She didn't care. She jumped in the passenger seat and Chris drove off, looking straight ahead. When Daughtry's was out of sight she jumped on him.

He slammed on the brakes, squealing tires and rammed her against the steering wheel. "Damn, what is this?" he groaned. "I fucking need you."

"I don't know. I can't stand it. I have to get your clothes off. I have to."

Honks came from behind them. "Shit!" he grunted in frustration. "I gotta get inside you. Where can we go?"

Rather than disgusting Layla, his words shot a delicious shock through her. "My house," she moaned against his neck. "Burgundy Street."

He didn't make her get off him, but he drove off, grunting with every move she made. He almost wrecked the car a few times but he made it to her house. "This one!" she said frantically.

He followed her up the stairs and through her front door, throwing it shut behind them.

"Finally!" she cried.

She attacked his shirt as he pulled her hips to his. His dick was so hard and stabbing her in the stomach. He couldn't stay still and ripped his shirt off the rest of the way, then he went after hers. It was just a t-shirt, but he ripped the collar revealing the tops of her breasts and her bra, then he ripped the bra open and set his mouth on her nipple, still digging into her.

She was crying out loudly--she couldn't stop it--and she reached down and unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. His dick jumped out into her hand, hot and heavy, and his groan vibrated through her nipple. He thrust into her hand rhythmically, almost mechanically, but she understood the rhythm. She felt the same beat pulsing through her. What was this? She felt a little scared but couldn't want to stop. There was only one way: getting this man inside her immediately.

He thrashed his head away from her chest and pressed his mouth below her ear. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I can't stop it. I don't know what to do! Am I scaring you?"

On the contrary, his words hummed into her ear and she frantically pulled at her pants button, shaking her head. "I need it. You can't stop."

He let out a hard sigh and kept thrusting into her hand. He wanted to hear it. "What do you need?"

"You," she whined. "Inside me. Please."

"Oh, I'll get inside you," he groaned, yanking down her zipper so hard that it came off in his hand.

"Upstairs! It has to be."

"Uh," he replied, tossing the zipper aside. He lifted her so she could wrap her legs around him.

He flew up the stairs and they crashed onto Cassandra's silk covered bed.

Layla laughed. She couldn't help it. She was having such a good time. Even though she didn't know him and didn't understand it, she was thrilled.

He laughed too. "This is crazy, right?"

"Definitely! But... good." She looked up at him and smiled. They rolled around on the wonderful fabric, marveling at the amazing feelings they were giving each other.

Chris slipped his hand beneath her underwear and her eyes flew open wide. "Ahh!" she cried.

Vix wandered out of English class in a daze. She had let herself get emotional and irrational. Her teacher definitely thought she was an idiot. The light flowing through the hallway windows was dim. Dark ugly clouds blocked the sun. She looked down the dim hallway, not really focusing on what was there, letting the crowd lead her.

Ursa was in trouble, but didn't know it. And if Ursa was in trouble, it was only a few small steps before she or Layla were—

"Hey, Vix!"

Vix halted in the middle of the hallway. Her next class was auto shop, her favorite class. It wasn't that she couldn't be late, more that she wouldn't.

She shook her head and started off again.

"Vix! Uh... Vixen Rehmert!"

Vix stopped again, letting other students knock into her on their way to classes. She glared behind her.

She didn't recognize anyone, and she almost turned away again, but a tall, beefy guy bashed her out of the way. He looked at her like she was a disgusting stain on the wall.

"Hey!" she cried. "What's your problem?"

The guy gave her a look of disbelief as if she had no right to speak to him. Then shook his head and moved on.

"What the hell?" she mumbled to herself, and set off toward shop in an irritated state.

"Hey," someone said to her right, and her head flew in his direction. She felt ready to scream.

It was a guy from her English class, one who never asked or answered any questions. He had disheveled, brown hair and a lazy and careless look about him. His eyes were wider than she'd ever seen.

"What?" she snapped rudely.

"Uh, what you said was cool earlier. About Poe."

Vix eyed him suspiciously. People didn't really talk to her unless they wanted to make fun. She was a cute girl, but she only talked to other classmates in shop. She wore boyish and baggy clothes. Right now she was wearing a tan and black flannel shirt over a grey t-shirt. She didn't really want attention, unlike Ursa. "Oh," she said. "Thanks."

"Yeah. I thought that too, you know? I can't stand that type of gloomy ending. I just didn't want to say it out loud. I'm always worried that people are gonna laugh at what I say."

She eyed him. He was one of those kids that everybody just knew was cool. He was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt. She knew about Pink Floyd. They were one of Layla's favorites. "Well, they did laugh at me. People are always laughing at me."

"Not me," he said casually.

Vix frowned, feeling suspicious.

"So... listen." His voice dropped and she had to walk a little closer to him so she could hear over the noise in the hallway. She didn't like it. She expected him to shout out that talking to her was a dare or a bet. "I'm having a party tonight. My parents are out of town and my big brother's cool with it. So..." He bit his lip. Was he nervous? "You wanna come?"

"Oh." This was definitely a first. "Well..."

"Are your parent's strict? They probably wouldn't want you going to a party on a school night, right?"

The intent with which he was staring at her made her curious, and less suspicious. "Oh, no. My mom's really slack. She lets me do whatever." But suddenly, she had a memory of her mother sneering, "I don't like it, so you're not doing it," and the sudden look of terror that took over Ursa's face moments later. Vix bit her lip to keep from shuddering.

"Really? That must be nice. My mom is like a hawk and my dad is a total tyrant. I really just want to go with the flow but they make it hard on me."

He was good-looking, definitely. He was charming. His personality reminded Vix a lot of Layla. "But you don't really seem stressed out. You're kinda... over-relaxed."

He laughed. "Whoa. That sounds bad. Over-relaxed." He laughed again.

Vix smiled. She liked his laugh. Mellow and happy. "What time?"

He glanced at her. "Eight or so."

She nodded. "Maybe I'll come."

"Yeah? Okay, yeah! Um, here..." he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a receipt. He reached around his backpack to get a pen out but Vix handed him hers. "Thanks," he said and scribbled something on the receipt. He passed them both to Vix. "That's my address." He was smiling in such a friendly way that Vix had to smile too. He nodded once, almost like a bow, and started turning down red hall.

"Hey, Galen?" Vix called, stopping to let the crowd rush around her.

He looked back.


He smiled, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he waved and walked off.

Vix let the crowd carry her away again. A party. She was invited to a party. Ursa and Layla were the ones who got invited to parties, not Vix. She grinned. It quickly faded. What was she going to do at a party? She'd probably just sit in a corner, feeling uncomfortable. She crammed the receipt into her pocket. Yeah, probably not.


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