Sara knew that she was screaming and that her echoes were resounding through the room, but she didn't know where she was. Just that Caleb was pulling her up while she sobbed frantically.

“It's the scythe. They scythe. I came so close. I—I saw...”

“Shh.” Caleb sat her down on the porch in the rocking chair.

“How can I be quiet? I saw death, real death. The slave girl told me to move. She said it would...”

“OK.” Caleb paced around while running his hand through the hair on the back of his head. “It was Emily.”

“Emily? That's her name? She was shooting up.”

“She was?” He sounded petrified.

“Yes and then one of her slaves came in and summoned the Scythe of Hades.”

“Jesus. So you asked why he was hunting you? Are you sure you had the question clear?”

“I stated it aloud. I don't have focus issues. He's hunting me because of something that happened more than a century ago.”

“He's hunting witches.”

“It was so cold. As soon as the scythe is passed over her, her body froze solid, and she was dead. It's quiet and efficient and it has a wide berth. It's gray, not black and I know the incantation. I can use it, but I can't control it. It scares me to shit. No witch could possibly control an energy that subtle. That girl knew what she was doing.”

“Just forget about it.”

“I need to kill him, Caleb. I can't just stay locked up in my house, afraid that your brother will kill me every time I leave.”

“If you're in danger, have your grandmother do it. That energy can't be controlled by a new witch.”

“We can kill him? Are you sure?”

“No!” He howled. “Of course I'm not fucking sure. What am I supposed to say to that? I want you to leave him alone is what I want you to do. I want to talk to him.” He stopped, threw back his head and yelled, “Stuart! They will kill you! You're out there I know you are! Stop!”

There was no answer, but he was out there. Sara was sure of it. A creature like that would watch her every second of every day looking for the opportunity to drain her. He always seemed to know when to do it and where she would.

“And so help me god, I'll make sure it happens if she gets hurt!” Caleb's face was flushed, an unusual look considering the white skin surrounding the red splotches.

“He's going to get my grandmother and me and you will end up hunting him for centuries. It's got to be done as soon as possible, Caleb.”

“If it means saving you.” He strode up to her and knelt down in front of her. Then he sighed and took her hands. “You won't die.”

“What about what my grandmother told me about you being a predator?”

“She's a black and white thinker like my brother. She thinks that because she had a bad experience with a vampire that she's figured us out. Yes, we are attracted to witches, and yes, many of us hunt witches. But we don't all spend years trying to find the perfect moment to kill you, at least I don't.”

“But it's possible?”

“I'm sure it's happened. Vampires are common, and even though witches are not, we can feel their presence when they use magic.”

“What's that like?” He sat up and kissed her. Then he pulled back and said, “Heroin.”

“I want you to be able to come to my house. I don't want my grandmother to feel this way about you any longer.”

“You have to talk to her. She's not going to come around, but I want you to anyway. I've wanted to talk to her for decades. It might upset you, but with time I'm sure you'll accept it.”

She didn't ask what he meant. “That mirror is very dangerous, Caleb.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn't have put me near it. Just thinking about a power would've summoned it. You have no idea how much self-discipline it took me to keep from burning your house down.”

He nodded his head. “I know.”

“Why did you it, then? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I need to find a way to stop Stuart and I need to know why he's doing this. It's been going for a long time now. You're the first I've encountered in years that would talk to me. I figured that if I told you about the mirror's power you would wouldn't want to do it.”

“I wouldn't have. But the scythe could've come out. I can't sit in front of that thing forever.”

“If you focus your mind correctly, you can try without it. It's the same thing. You just have to reach below the veil. You can channel that way. It's also how you summon up spiritual energy.”

“It scares the shit out of me.”

“As it should. Consider it reaching into hell.”

“That's exactly what it is, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

Sara took out her phone. “Shit.”

“What?” Caleb asked.

“When I left today, I told her I was going to school. She's going to lose her mind if I don't come home on time and it's already getting late.”

“Do you have to go now?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

The trip back wasn't anywhere near as eerie as the journey to the house. Sara saw the essence of death. The Scythe of Hades was the power that brought on death. Every time something or somebody died, Sara knew that just a small amount of that power was present. It was everywhere.

Caleb stopped just out of sight of the property in a field not far from the road. “I have to walk you all the way. Stuart is probably here. If he's not, he will be here soon.”

“No. Caleb, my grandmother's going to go crazy if I do that. She thinks you're trying to kill me. I can't allow you to come close to the house. “

“I'm not taking the risk. I'll follow you no matter what.”

“She's going to lose her shit. What if she tries to kill you?”

“She won't.”

“How do you know she won't?”

“Because she's deathly afraid of the scythe. She won't use it.” He started walking up the hill. “Come on.”

She ran after him. “She said that her nephew died when he got in the way of it. Is that why?”

“It's part of it. She blames me for it.”

“Why?” They were reaching the top of the hill.

“She's going to see me, Sara.”

“Alright.”

He kissed her on the cheek and left, leaving her with a soft whisper that seemed to dissipate along with his presence. “Ask her about Priscilla.”

“Who's Priscilla?” Sara turned around to see her grandmother motioning her to come inside. She sat back down at the table and summoned up a lit cigarette. This was the first time that Sara had seen her grandmother smoke. She was surprised. “Sit down.”

“Who is she?” Sara took her seat.

“That little shit is going to really piss me off. I've wanted him dead for years. I can't believe he came back here. Now he's toying with your head.” She shot up out of her chair, pointed the finger at the hutch to sweep it to the side and reveal a hidden compartment in the back wall, just a square. Inside it was sitting an ancient book, so old that the ends of the pages were black with wear.

“What is that?”

“It's a Grimoire, a witch's spell book.” It flew across the room and landed in front of her.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I'm going to kill the bastard.”

“Wait, what?” She tried to take the book, but it moved away of its own accord. “Why?”

“Because the son of a bitch is begging for it.”

“What did he do, grandma?”

She started pacing around, shaded by a thick cloud of smoke that smelled like burning piss. “He killed my sister.”

“He did? I thought you said that she tried to kill him with the scythe.”

“She did and when it backfired it killed her and her daughter. That innocent little girl—she...”

Margaret collapsed on the ground and started pounding on the floor, sending purple sparks flying out with her fists. Sara was up before she knew it, wrenching her grandmother up off the ground, holding her soft form close, while Margaret cried like a little girl. Margaret was a pillar of strength, so powerful that Sara had always considered being a deified archetype. Even when Sara first got there and she hated the woman, she still recognized that nothing could break her. She thought her grandmother would stand up to anything.

Now she was lying in a pile of tears on Sara's shoulder, and Sara was starting to realize just how weak the woman was. Just her sister's name could send her flying off the handle. She helped her grandmother sit back down at the table and waited silently while she finished her cigarette. When she was done, she looked up at Sara.

“What happened?”

“Caleb stalked her since high school. He had us all fooled with his talk about living without blood. He saved her life several times too. He said he was watching over the house and in return we let him go past our boundaries and come inside to see Priscilla. When she got older, she left home to travel and wound up falling in love. When she came back with the child, he found her and got upset. He wouldn't stop coming, trying to talk to her. He told her that he loved her. Then he turned and threw her to the ground right out there in the living room near the fireplace. He was screaming at her, telling her that he loved her and she betrayed him.

That's when she used the scythe. Her toddler, Isabella, ran out of my arms when the air went cold and flew directly into the scythe's path. Then it backfired and flung back at her. He refused to leave after that. I had to kick him out myself. I would've used the scythe had it not been for what had just happened.”

It sounded more like a lover's quarrel to Sara. If he had wanted her dead, he would've killed her. Maybe her grandmother didn't know that. Maybe she was still too caught up in what happened to her sister to be able to think straight about it. What Sara learned from her grandmother's story was that Caleb was more of a touchy subject than a killer. Maybe she was just prejudiced.

Sara couldn't argue with her, though. This was the death of Margaret's sister they were talking about. She was going to take her opinion of that scenario to the grave. It wouldn't matter what anyone said. Nobody was more stubbornly ignorant than a pissed off Bishop witch.

“I saw something today,” Sara said.

“What?”

“You're going to flip your shit, but I don't care. He took me to his house up in the hills. It was this ancient English country home that was falling apart at the seams.”

“I know. Why the fuck did you go there?”

“He took me upstairs and showed me this mirror.”

“He what!” Margaret shot off her feet. “Do you have any idea why?”

“Yes. Now sit down and let me tell my story, OK?”

Margaret did what Sara asked.

“Anyway, he's been trying to figure out why his brother's hunting us. I think it's so Caleb can reason with him, but it won't work. So I asked the mirror, as carefully as I possibly could. I was transported to this ancient wooden shack, sometime in the nineteenth century, I think. I saw the witch shooting up. Then her slave came in and used the scythe.”

“Oh no.” Margaret gasped.

“I'm still not right from it, but I know how to use it now.”

“Never use the scythe.” Margaret locked eyes with Sara. “Just because we can summon up energy doesn't mean we're expected to use it. It's unnatural.”

“Do you know anything about his brother Stuart?”

“No,” Margaret answered. “Caleb may seem open and honest, but there're all sorts of things he isn't telling you. He's got you, and there is nothing I can do to stop him from hurting you, just like my sister.”

“He's trying to help me. He said you can kill Stuart. He cares about me so much he's willing to give the go ahead for us to kill his brother just to save my life.”

“I don't buy it. I'm going to kill both of them.”

“It's too dangerous,” Sara said.

“It's worth the risk. We've got two vampires hunting us. One will cut you open the second you walk out the door. The other is taking his time. I say Caleb's worse. A quick death is better than a slow one. I don't care how blind you are. I will not let him keep doing this to you because I've seen where this ends up.”

“He feels so much, Grandma. He loves so much more than witches do. That's what happened. He was jealous when he found out about Priscilla, so he got upset. You can't judge an entire species based upon your narrow view of the actions of one man. Vampires are individuals just like we are. They have personalities and temperaments. They love. They grieve. They don't lose their humanity. They still have free will.”

“I'm not going to take the chance. They all kill. They all hunt. It's their defining characteristic.”

“If you kill him, I will leave, and you will never see me again.”

“Sara, this is about staying safe and doing what it takes to survive. You don't take risks when it comes to your survival. You just don't. What if I'm right and you're just a teenager in love?”

“You're wrong.”

“Maybe so,” Margaret sat down and started going through the book, “but even if I am wrong, I'm going to make sure you're safe.”

“You think it's OK to just take somebody's life like that? He hasn't done anything to us. Stuart was the one that killed my mother, not Caleb.”

“I'm not listening.”

“You know what's really fucked up about this, Grandma? You have all of the tools that you need to find out the truth about this. You've got cards. You can try. But you've never actually sat down and done any of those things because you're too afraid of what you'll see. You want a scapegoat. You don't want to have to face the fact that your sister wasn't capable of performing one of the most difficult spells there is. It's fucking pathetic.”

Sara knew right away that she had hit the mark because her grandmother started crying. Then she got up, stood still, apparently uncertain of what to do. When she finally sat down again, she was completely drained of her energy.

“Don't you fucking dare kill him. So help me god, you will regret it.”

“We'll kill his brother.”

“How?”

“I don't know yet. Let me make some dinner. Please stay in tonight, Sara. I don't want to have to worry.”

Sara delayed her reaction just to prolong her grandmother's suffering.

“I need you here, Sara. Please.” Margaret had soft, dark rings underneath her eyes and her hair was frazzled, flaring out on all ends. She was losing her mind. Sara saw her as a stern authority figure, somebody who she could rebel against and beat up, but Margaret was fragile. She needed love and attention as much as Sara did, and Sara was treating her like shit.

“I'll stay.” She got up and hugged her grandmother. “What are you making?” She asked.

“I don't know.”

“Then don't make anything. I'll cook.”