Chapter 4.18 – Forty Miles of Horseshit

Melinda had been hanging out with April and Wyatt all day and most of the night, and had taken her leave in the early hours, so that Wyatt could sleep. She’d invited April back, but April had refused, saying that she was going work on a potion using her new cauldron.

Melinda might have been put out that April was choosing to spend time with an iron pot over her, had she thought too much about it. But, gosh, it had been a long, long day and she was simply too knackered to think much of anything.

Clutching her warp pebble, Melinda materialised within Moon’s kitchen as quietly as she could manage, taking care not to wake Moon by stepping on any wailing cats. Moon slept with earplugs and an eye mask so that her nocturnal guest could go about her business with some normality in the dead of night, and she could probably sleep through an earthquake, but still, being quiet was only polite.

And Melinda was nothing if not polite.

She yawned. Sleep never really happened for her anymore, which sucked. Instead, she recharged by being still and silent. She didn’t have a coffin or anything to hide in, like in the movies, but putting her pyjamas on zoning out for a while on the sofa with her knitting seemed to work—

It took Melinda’s hazy brain a good few seconds to realise that there was a gentle tapping coming from the front door, by which point it had become more insistent.

TAP, TAP, TAP.

She glanced toward it, clutching at her chest where her heart would have been racing if, y’know, she’d been alive.

Who would be knocking on the door at this time?

Melinda’s first thought was that it was the police. They’d found Omar outside the clinic, they’d figured out that she’d bitten him, they’d ransacked Wyatt’s apartment and found a clue to where she was…

Wait, what was the chance of the police finding something that indicated her whereabouts? Especially in Wyatt’s dump of an apartment. No way, that was an unrealistic scenario.

She took an empty breath but it caught on another panicked thought. It was one of Moon’s witchy friends. Spotty banana! That would be worse. None of the witches knew about April and Melinda – and they couldn’t know. They’d behead her on the spot!

Melinda was on the brink of attempting to wake Moon from her zombie slumber, when she heard a voice at the door that she recognised. A sarcastic drawl that, to this day, April still tried, and failed, to mimic every time she wanted to sound less posh.

It brought a wave of pure relief followed hotly by a tsunami of pent up emotions.

Joy, rage.

The ringing in her ears intensified as the knocking did.

She’d have rather faced the head-hunters right then than her former friend.

“Ugh! Forty miles of horseshit and no one’s home? Are you fucking kidding—?”

Faith didn’t get to finish her sentence as the door was flung open, knocking her backwards into yet more crap.

“I’m home.”

Oh god. Oh shitting god. Faith had imagined the moment that she’d once again hear Melinda’s squeaky dog toy tone, but hearing it, actually hearing it. It was like the first time she’d heard metal music, but without the dickhead who had been trying to seduce her to it.

It spoke to her soul. It sounded like home.

“Mel?”

“What are you doing here?” Melinda asked, barely above a whisper.

“I’m selling cookies,” Faith snorted. “What do you think? I’m looking for you.”

“How did you know I was here?”

Faith had hoped that Melinda’s first question would be more along the lines of ‘how are you?’ or ‘where have you been? Her tone was both suspicious and annoyed, it kind of felt like an accusation and it threw Faith off. Luckily, before she could blurt out the truth, or make up some half-assed lie, Melinda was already filling in the blanks.

“Wait, is it you who’s been following me?” she whispered. “Every night I go out it feels like someone is watching me.”

It wasn’t, but Faith clung to this. She nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Melinda didn’t look relieved. If anything, she looked annoyed. “Why are you here?”

“I told you—”

“Yes, you were looking for me,” Melinda said, even more quietly, glancing past her into the night. “But why?”

Faith looked past Melinda but either Melinda didn’t get the hint, or she didn’t want Faith inside the house. “Can I come in?”

“Are you alone?”

Ah. Now Melinda’s hesitation made sense. “Yeah, I’m alone. Things didn’t work out with Seth.”

“What a surprise,” Melinda muttered, still not inviting Faith in or moving in any way. She fixed Faith with a silent stare.

Faith was so not used to this. She shifted her weight to her other foot and looked for a way to worm her way back in. “Uh, I wanted to say sorry for flaking on you.”

“Again.”

Faith winced. “Again.”

“And?”

“Uh… I want to make things right?”

“Is that a statement or guess?”

Faith didn’t like this. This wasn’t the Mellybean she’d grown up with, who would forgive her instantly. Was Kitty right? Had the vampirism taken over Melinda and turned her into… this?

“Am I wasting my time here, Mel? Are you not even gonna give me five minutes to hear me out?”

“Maybe not,” Melinda crossed her arms and pouted. She stared out into the distance, deep in thought, but then relented with a familiar small whine. She opened the door and flicked on a light, gesturing for Faith to enter the little cottage.

“Fine. Five minutes. But keep it down, please.”

“Why?” Faith asked in a stage whisper, taking a seat at the tiny table and looking around at all the old-fashioned kit. “Who does this house belong to? Baba ganoush?”

“I think you mean ‘Baba Yaga’, and no… it belongs to a lady called Moon.”

“’Moon’?” Faith chortled. “Is she, like, a hippie?”

“No. She’s a friend of the late Sage, Wyatt’s mum.”

“…and Wyatt is…?”

“April’s dad. Yeah,” she concurred, at Faith’s confusion. “Isn’t it funny how much you miss when you disappear for months at a time? In short, we learned that Travis isn’t April’s real dad; Sandy had a fling—“

Faith snorted.

“—with a witch called Wyatt, and April was the result,” Melinda finished, looking imploringly at Faith until the penny dropped.

“Wait, did you say ‘a witch’?”

Melinda nodded smoothly. “Yes.”

“Witches are real?”

“Witches are real. April is half witch.”

Ugh. Of course she was. Bloody April, always getting bloody everything.

Melinda was still talking. “So now April lives with Wyatt – that’s her dad—”

“Yeah, I’ve got that, thanks.”

“—and I live here with Moon, who is also a witch.”

“Witches are real,” Faith repeated. “Can they really do, like, spells and stuff?”

“Yeah. Spells, potions, all sorts. It’s pretty neat actually, even if I do struggle to explain how it’s actually possible. They have a whole underground society with its own rules, structure and factions. They’ve had a long, horrible history with vampires though, so only a handful of them know about us. Moon, Wyatt, Broof—”

“Broof? Butler Broof?”

“Yes. Also a witch.”

“No. Fucking. Way! I told you, didn’t I? I told you there was something weird about him. It’s the beard. You can’t trust a man with a beard – they’re all either perverts or hiding something.”

“He’s actually a really nice man, Faith. He’s been instrumental in getting the witches on side – he’s even let April and Wyatt stay at his house while he and Lilith research a possible vampire cure.”

“Wow. I didn’t even know he had a house. I thought he lived under Sandy’s bed, or something.” Faith puffed out a little air in another silent ‘wow’, although in all honesty, she was feeling nothing but pissed off. While she’d been living in abandoned factories and nursing the wounds Seth had left her, April and Mel had been living an exciting secret life with witches and magic and shit. It was so unfair.

“A cure, huh?“

Melinda deflated a little. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s a really long shot. The witches can do a lot, but curing vampirism might be beyond them. It’s a whole different kind of magic – they call it ‘dark magic’ – and if the witches meddle too much with it, it can corrupt them.” She shook her head. “Like I said, I don’t really understand it, I’m just trying to accept things for what they are and not go too deep with the details.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Mellybean I know.”

“Yeah, well maybe the Mellybean you knew got a reality check.”

“Right…” Faith wondered what had caused this ‘reality check’, so she hazarded a guess disguised as an innocent question. “Where’s Fringey in all this?” she asked slyly, obliviously. “Is he back living with Lilith?”

“No.”

“Oh, so he’s still with April? How’s that working out?”

If Faith hadn’t been scrutinising Melinda’s face so closely, she might have missed the way her irises flashed white and the slight set of her jaw. “He’s not with us anymore, Faith,” she sighed sadly and looked at the floor beside her.

“Oh,” Faith tried to sound surprised. “Did he run off with another blonde?”

“No. He’s not with this world anymore. He’s dead.”

“I think he preferred the term ‘undead’.”

“No, you don’t understand. See, he attacked April and me—”

“Why would he attack you?”

“Because April and I, well, I guess you were right about us, let’s put it that way.”

“What? No way!” Faith said, playing along as if she had no clue about all this already. “You and April? You’re together now? As in, ‘together’?”

Melinda finally smiled, albeit very shyly. “Yes.”

“Took you long enough,” Faith teased. “So what happened? Did Caleb catch you wrist-deep in his missus and try to join in?”

Melinda’s smile fell. “That’s so typical of you.” She looked towards the door, then at the ceiling and finally back at Faith. Well, slightly to the left of Faith; she couldn’t seem to look her in the eye. “I feel so bad about it. He caught us kissing and he was understandably upset. Oh god…” she looked back at the door as if mentally trying to escape. “Nobody meant to hurt him, honestly, but he was out of control, Faith. It took so much force to try and restrain him… Wyatt really tried, but he doesn’t have a great handle on his magic… It was an accident. He didn’t survive it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know that this is probably hard to hear. It’s been really hard on everyone, especially Lilith.”

“So he’s really dead? Dead as in dead dead?”

“Yes.”

Faith pressed her hand to her chest and tried to squeeze out a tear. It was a lot harder now that her tear ducts were like dried, undead peppercorns.

“Oh my god. Poor Fringey. Where is he buried? Can I visit and pay my respects?”

“No,” Melinda admitted in a small voice. “There wasn’t anything left to bury.”

Faith rolled her tongue around her teeth, trying to remain looking sad and surprised. She wondered if Kitty had lied about Caleb’s survival, but if she had lied, who was she collecting young blondes for?

Something else was causing Faith’s face to slip from the mask of sorrow that Melinda was clearly expecting at this news. Melinda had always been the conscience of the group, the voice of reason, the moral compass. To hear that she’d been snogging someone’s else’s girlfriend in front of them and had been a key factor in a man’s death was a revelation.

Nobody was perfect, not even Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.

Maybe Kitty was right. Maybe the darkness really did change them. Maybe it had changed Faith. And if so, was she responsible for anything she’d done under its influence?

“Are you OK?” Melinda asked gently making Faith realise she’d been staring at nothing for a while.

“It’s a lot to take in.”

Melinda made a noise of agreement and the pair sat in silence for a while. Faith watched Melinda as she chewed over her inner turmoil, distracted from her own for a brief moment.

“So,” Faith said, filling in the heavy silence and seizing on the lull in Melinda’s aggression. “What else have I missed?” she thought for a second. “Is your dad okay? Last I saw him—”

“—Was when you literally stepped on me in your haste to run off with Seth?”

Woah. Mellybean was kinda scary when she was angry. Her outburst stung like a slap and left Faith reeling. “Too soon?”

Melinda scowled. “He’s fine. Better than fine. He visits often, as does my mum, and yours.”

“What? My mum visits?”

“Yes.”

“She knows about… us? What we are?”

“I sure hope so, seeing as she visits weekly to donate blood.”

“…What? You drink from my mum?”

“Not directly. It’s all very safe and clinical. There’s even a potion our folks can drink so that they don’t suffer from the blood loss and get sick.”

The way Melinda emphasised the last word sounded like another accusation. Faith couldn’t look at her.

“No follow up questions?” Mel sneered. “Don’t want to ask how she is, or how Joy is? You remember Joy right, your little sister?”

Faith’s heart was sinking as she muttered, “How is Joy?”

Mel folded her arms and sat back, watching Faith intently. “She was really ill a couple of months back. She ended up in hospital.”

“Really?” Faith managed without any air in her lungs. “…What happened?”

“The doctors don’t know what happened.”

“…Is she OK?”

“Yes. She’s better now. Physically at least.” Faith had never Melinda like this; she looked defiant, aggressive, like she could fight a lion and win.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?” Melinda glanced at a door behind Faith and lowered her voice. “Joy confided in me that she had seen you, twice. Once near the arcade with ‘a smelly man in a hat’, and again in her bedroom, on her birthday – the night she conveniently ‘fell ill’ – but by yourself.”

Faith’s insides were knotted tight, recalling the heat of her little sister’s skin against her own. Her little hands. Her sad little face. Her small body crumpled on the carpet.

“I wanted to give her a birthday present.”

“Oh? Was her present a sack of leeches or was there another reason why she lost a load of blood, Faith?”

Faith stammered, pressing her nails hard into her wrist. The tears were genuinely threatening to fall now, but they were doing nothing to soften Melinda’s expression.

“I… I…” Faith started, wringing her skirt in her hands.

“You…?” Melinda encouraged, with something of a sneer that got Faith’s defences up. She backtracked.

“He tricked me,” she whispered. “Seth. He tricked me into drinking from her.”

Melinda stared at Faith for a while before folding her arms and dropping back into her seat. “How?”

Faith chewed over this, the truth dancing on her tongue, a bitter pill she couldn’t seem to swallow. She tucked it away for another day and took the easier option. “He set the whole thing up, he made me bite her—”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did he ‘make’ you bite her? Physical force? Mental force?”

Both, sort of. Also sort of neither. Faith bit her lip hard, threatening to draw blood, or whatever it was that she had now. “I’m not sure. But as soon as I realised what he’d done, I ditched him.”

“Oh, good, so all it took for you to see his true colours was for him to drive you to attack an innocent child. Huh. If only there had been other signs…”

“Well, sorry, for not believing you, Oh Wise Oracle,” Faith drawled sarcastically. “I’m so sorry for being too stupid to realise that he was manipulating and lying to me! I’m such a fucking idiot!”

“You are.” Melinda wrapped her arms around herself, and looked away, her scowl softening only slightly. If Faith could just push, just a little bit further, she’d break through this cold shell, Melinda would cave, everything would be back to normal.

In a softer and far less sarcastic tone, Faith muttered. “I really am sorry, you know. He made me do such awful things, Mel, things I didn’t want to do, things I can’t believe I’ve done.”

“Oh? What kind of things?”

Shit. Why did Faith say that? She thought back to Megan, floppy and pale on the bench in the shack, but couldn’t bring herself to admit that. “Uh… he made me… watch him, y’know…” she drew a finger across her throat.

Melinda physically recoiled. “He made you watch him murder people?! And that wasn’t enough for you to say ‘Hey, you know what? Maybe he’s not such a nice guy after all!’?”

“Not immediately, no…”

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