Make a wish, darling

~Micheal~

Staring up at the mall in front of him, Micheal glances down at the address on his phone. He sighs when his phone vibrates and a caller ID blocks the address. Picking up the call, he signals his driver that he's going into the mall.

"Tell me you carried salt and mistletoe with you," is the first thing out of his beta's mouth as soon as the speaker makes contact with his ear.

"Nigel, what is this, the twentieth time in the past thirty minutes that you've told me this?" Micheal frowns, thoroughly annoyed as he pushes the revolving glass door at the entrance of the mall. The redhead has been pestering him about safety precautions ever since he told him about his plan to finally seek out the witch that troublesome human pointed him to. The Alpha can understand the myth about salt being used to ward off evil but mistletoe? What is he supposed to do, hang that over their heads and kiss the witch's nose to wash away her dark magic?

Snorting at his own thoughts, he stands on the escalator as Nigel huffs.

"Take this seriously, young man. Witches are not to be played with."

Micheal's smile drops when he hears Mr. Frost's voice. "You told your grandfather about this?" He complains.

"Of course I did! You don't listen to me," the redhead shoots back.

Micheal groans as he gets to the first floor.

"Kid, did you take the mistletoe with you?" Mr. Frost asks, his voice sounding grave-r than usual.

Pursing his lips, Micheal lies through his teeth. "Yes." There should be a shop where they sell weird ass plants somewhere around here.

"Lose it. They don't like that and your aim isn't to offend them."

Hearing that makes Micheal pause right outside the plant shop. Happily turning around, he continues his journey to the last shop at the end of the first floor. "I never brought it in the first place."

"Thought as much, punk," the man grunts. "Listen, drop the salt right outside their doorstep to show respect."

Micheal frowns. "Wait, how did you know I carried salt?"

"You're not as daft as you want us to believe."

The Alpha scoffs. "I don't even know whether to be offended or take that as a compliment."

"Salt shows respect?" Nigel pipes up, sounding about as confused as he probably looked. "I thought it wards off evil? And that they're evil?"

"Witches use salt for their spells. The Titan, Gaia's tears formed the ocean and from the ocean came rock salt. It's a powerful representation of everything that entails life, both good and bad. Obviously most use it for bad but it is still holds power all the same. People spread salt on their doorsteps because it was believed that Hades' demons would turn away at the sight of their master's grandmother's tears. Witches take advantage of that protection magic to safeguard their spells against the lord of the underworld," Mr. Frost explains.

"Because they serve his rival, Hecate, blah, blah, blah," Micheal mocks. He can't count the number of times this old man has told him and Nigel the story about the rivalry between Hecate and Hades. For God's sake, how long is this floor?

"You know, for a supernatural creature, you find it hard to believe in the supernatural."

Micheal groans. "Spare me. Please."

"Micheal."

The Alpha stops a few paces away from a woman dressed in a witch outfit, standing behind an open booth. "Yes?"

"Be careful. Don't believe a word of what they say. Their words always have a double meaning. Whatever you do, do not enter a contract with that witch. Be on high alert at all times. When it gets dire, unmask your scent."

Micheal frowns at that last part. "O...kay?"

"I mean it, Micheal," Mr. Frost stresses, concern evident in his voice.

The Alpha nods even though the man can't see him. For the impatient old man to bother saying one thing twice like this, this situation is more serious than he initially thought. "I'll be careful, Mr. Frost. I promise. I'll be back to annoy your ass soon enough. Don't worry."

"Piss off."

Micheal snorts when the line goes off. Pocketing his phone, he focuses his attention on the woman in a witch costume. His mind goes to his mistletoe joke when he sees the fake big nose she's wearing. Shaking his head, he tries to get the imagery out of his head.

Be serious, Micheal.

"Free samples. Taste the candy goodness and enter the hut," the woman advertises to passersby, mimicking a raspy old woman's voice.

Micheal's eyes goes to the shop she gestures to. He scoffs when he sees the name on the neon sign. 'The Witch's Hut'? Really? Could they be more obvious? Of course humans, being humans, would never suspect a thing. ‘It's a simple shop with a fun Halloween theme all year round. Let's go there.’

As if hearing his thoughts, two unsuspecting females happily walk over to the booth.

"A pretty apple for a pretty lady," the witch grins wickedly, offering an apple shaped candy to the taller brunette.

"Why, thank you," the brunette giggles, accepting the apple.

"Ah," the witch exclaims, lifting a finger with long pointy artificial nails just as the girl is about to bite into it. "Make a wish, darling."

The shorter brunette rolls her eyes. "What, will it come true?" She asks sarcastically.

Shifting her pitch black eyes to the second human that Micheal is sure isn't contact lenses, the witch smirks. "Do you want it to?"

"If it can, I'd like to see it," the girl challenges.

The witch says nothing and just hands her another apple. This one is crystalized and completely transparent. "Go ahead...if you dare."

The shorter girl scoffs, glancing at the taller girl who seems entranced by the interaction. Shaking her head, she snatches the apple and stares at it for a moment before taking a bite out of it.

Micheal notices the faint mist that emits from the human's body. It flows towards the witch who inhales it with a broad smile on her face. It happens in a span of one second so he's sure that none of the humans saw a thing. This must have been what Mr. Frost was talking about. This witch just tricked this human into a contract without her realising it.

The short brunette hums. "Not bad. It's spicy and sweet," she says, taking another bite out of it. "Can I take more of it?"

"Can you pay the price?" The witch asks but Micheal now knows she's certainly not talking about the candy.

"I thought it was free?" The taller brunette queries, raising a brow.

"Everything comes at a price, darling," she replies cryptically.

Huffing, the shorter one grabs the girl's hand. "Fine. We'll buy more in the shop." With that, she stomps her way into the shop with the taller girl in tow.

Jesus Christ. Whatever wish that girl made, it had better be something good or at least reasonable. In situations like these, humans tend to have silly thoughts. Things they think are harmless fun because it'll never happen.

"Are you going to keep standing there or will you come get an apple?" The witch asks without looking at him, still using that fake gruff voice.

Taking a deep breath, Micheal moves towards the booth. Now that he's closer, he can feel the slight shift in the air surrounding this woman. His eyes take in her black robe and elaborate pointy hat. The bat decorations around the booth are a little bit over the top for his taste but that's not his problem. All that's left to complete her ensemble is a broom- oh never mind, it's right behind her. "Quite the setup you have here."

"Quite the eyes you've got there," she says, her black orbs seeming as though they're boring into his soul. "The colour of the stormy seas and the heavy clouds. Your life must be quite miserable."

Shaking off the goosebumps he just got from her accurate prediction, he maintains eye contact with her. "Drop the voice and the act. I know you're an actual witch."

She lifts a brow at him, her dramatic smile fading. "And you're a werewolf without a scent or much of an aura. Huh. That rings old bells that I honestly don't think I'll like," she huffs, her voice having a mild undertone of a Southern accent.

"A Southern witch, huh?"

"I imagine you're not here to talk about my origins, wolf. State your business or leave my territory," she declares firmly, her aura turning dark and heavy.

"My name is Micheal. Your friend, Lockwood, told me where to find you."

She snorts. "That sly bastard is merely an idiot who has bitten on more than he can chew. So it's you," she eyes him with renewed interest, tilting her head. "The Delvini Alpha tainted by the vampiric magic of the sassafras."

Vampiric magic? "Actually that's my grandfather."

"Even better," she smiles, walking out of the booth towards the shop. "Come in, Alpha. We have much to discuss."