I am Noorish (short story)
This is a writing sample from Scripted writer Ruth Peterson
I started writing the letter thinking I should choose my words very carefully. Given what I was about to say, I would undoubtedly become one of the many threats my great-grandfather hunted when he was alive. I began: Dear Eskarians, _ My great-grandfather was Michael Aldous Anderson, and he was one of you, an Eskarian. He was converted, as you like to say, in 1903. He left his family after that, and I lost sight of him sometime in the 70s._ I know you're not human. Neither am I, so if you come after me, know that I won't be an easy kill. It was about 1984 that I became something else. Noorish. You've never heard of it, I'm sure. Michael didn't know. I killed Michael tonight, not because he deserved to die. He needed a cure for a dimension shifter, someone he loved, and the price for her cure was his life. That's how my magik works, like an eye-for-an-eye thing. I'm hoping you'll stay away, but you probably won't. So, I'll be waiting. Regards, Savanna Alder Jameson That done, I folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, addressed to one Griffin McCallum, who Michael said ran the operation, if that was what it should be called, in the Pacific Northwest. Stamp applied, I tucked it into my bag and would drop it in the mail box later this morning. The gravity of what I'd done wasn't lost on me. I'd killed my own great-grandfather, who was an immortal, and part of an army that hunted the terrible things that threatened humans and this planet. He was a good man. A hunter. I wondered how long it would take for them to find me, just as I wondered if I'd be smarter to just toss the envelope and forget all about my great-grandfather. It wasn't like I actually knew him. And I didn't set out to find him. He found me, so how long before those Slayers find me as well? I should leave. People say that, and then they decide to just stick it out, for God-knows-what reason. At least they do that on TV. I knew the Slayers were fast and dangerous. I'd said I wouldn't be an easy kill, but what did I really know about all that? I lived in Portland, about three hours from Seattle. I'd been here for years and it was definitely home, but in the face of probable death, I supposed I could find another place. I should just toss that envelope. Then I could stay, live in peace, and never have to worry about who or what was behind me. "Knock, knock." I jumped at the sound. Nobody knew I was in Seattle, let alone what hotel I'd chosen. "What do you want," I said. Not really a question. "I'm looking for Michael Anderson. I'm a colleague of his." Shit. I opened the door and looked up into the coldest blue eyes I'd ever seen. They weren't so much blue as they were nearly white, and combined with the dark brows and lashes, warm complexion, and cinnamon-colored hair, he was beyond striking. "So?" "So, have you seen him?" the man asked. I shrugged. No point in lying. If he'd gotten this far, he probably knew I'd seen Michael. "I had drinks with him yesterday. Haven't seen him since." The man was all muscle and tall as fuck. Was he one of those immortals? Eskarians, like Michael. "He's not answering his phone. Did he indicate where he might be or what he had planned for the day?" "No, I'm sorry. We didn't talk all that long." I wondered if Michael had said anything about the dimension shifter. "He said he was looking for a cure for a friend of his." "Yes, Natalia," the man said. "Did he find one?" "He hadn't when I saw him. Maybe he has by now, and that's why you can't reach him," I offered. I could lie with the best of them, when necessary. "Maybe." The man smiled. "I'm Griffin McCallum. If you see him again, please tell him I'm looking for him." I nodded. "Will do, Griffin McCallum." He turned to leave and I closed the door. My hands were shaking. I made it to the bed and sat. If the other immortals looked like Griffin McCallum, there would be no way I could kill one of them. The guy was at least ten inches taller than me. It was then I had a thought. Closing my eyes, I gathered the energy needed for my magik. Whispering soft words as I extended my hand in Griffin's general direction, I set a spell on him to make him forget he ever saw me. If anyone even mentioned my name, he'd instantly feel so much pain, it'd knock him on his ass. If he tried to persist, so would the pain. Typically, that's enough to discourage the best of them. Even better, once he was down and writhing in pain, then I could cut his throat and even hang around to watch him bleed to death. That would allow me to ensure he was really dead, given his status as an immortal. But that plan made assumptions I wasn't willing to rely on. I packed my bag and left. I'd parked close to the office, so it was easy to drop off the key card and leave. My next task was to figure out where to go. Portland wasn't an option. What if one of those immortals was there waiting for me? Walmart was the next logical choice, as I'd need provisions if I was to stay off the grid for a bit. I hadn't planned on running, but the arrival of Griffin McCallum changed all that. And he'd found me so quickly, only one day after I killed my great-grandfather. Did I actually think I stood a fucking chance of outrunning these people? I needed to destroy a certain envelope currently resting in my bag. Once I got to the Walmart parking lot, that was the next order of business. Minutes later, I sat in my van, at once too scared to move. There was no reason to believe I was being hunted, but it didn't seem inconceivable. Griffin had found me, and that made me feel vulnerable. Like they could swoop in at any moment and cut my throat, just as I'd thought about cutting Griffin's. I needed to tamp down my fear and leave the parking lot. After I started the car, I dropped it into gear and left, wondering if anyone would be following me. It's so easy to become paranoid, to think they're all after you, when you might not be on their radar at all. That kind of thinking can cause you to make really bad decisions. But if the alternative involves death, who's to say that thinking is wrong? I took the scenic route to Walmart, driving in circles, visiting neighborhoods, and, in general, meandering my way toward my goal. If anyone was following, hopefully they'd get bored and give up. Once I got there, I parked away from everyone, hoping to have some private space to conduct my business. I got the envelope from my bag, tossed it onto the asphalt, and said a quick fire spell. The envelope quietly disintegrated into ash and was no more. Evidence now gone. My paranoia was already getting to me. I didn't have to sit and wait for those immortals to find me. I could just disappear. Almost literally. After all, I am Noorish, not some weak human. I have magikal power at my disposal. It would still mean I'd be on the run, but at least I'd stand a chance of surviving. It was enough to give me some hope. There are herbs I always carry in my bag, ones not known by humans. They were cultivated by the Noorish, only for the Noorish. Humans didn't need to know anything about them. I took out my stash of herbs, tore them into little bits into what used to be my car's ashtray, and lit them on fire. While they burned, my van was infused with the most delectable fragrance, and I inhaled deeply. I spoke the words to invoke invisibility, and let the spell wash over me, which felt like a warm, heavy blanket. Warm comfort. I got out of my car and headed for the store. Invisibility doesn't work like you might think. I can still be seen, but I seem so irrelevant that people dismiss me almost immediately. I am forgotten the moment I leave someone's sight. So, I can go to Walmart, buy what I need, and once I leave, no one will remember I was there. It's a handy, little spell. As I got closer to the entrance, I noticed a guy standing against the wall, looking totally casual and deadly at the same time. What made me think he was deadly? He was tall, over six feet, dressed in jeans, boots, a t-shirt, and a denim jacket. His dark brown hair was collar length, and all that was quite normal. It was his golden complexion that raised the hairs on the back of my neck, resembling Griffin's skin tone too much for my comfort. He stood, one foot against the wall, silently engrossed in whatever was going on with his phone. I kept going. After all, I was invisible. His gaze lifted to mine. He had amazing blue eyes, as brilliant as a summer day. Shit. "Hi, Savanna," he said. "My name's Christopher." I kept walking. My spell was powerful and I'd never had any problems with it before. In less than a heartbeat, he stood in front of me. I stopped, startled to my very core, and lifted my gaze to his. "Savanna," he said softly, almost like a lover might. "We know you killed Michael. You'll be coming with me now." As if my spell never existed, he saw me, and when he reached out to grasp my arm, terror wrapped its icy claws around my throat. Christopher wasn't as tall as Griffin, but he looked every bit as strong, and he'd seen through my spell. I had sorely underestimated what these people were capable of, not that it mattered. They'd found me, despite my efforts. He pulled me forward, past what felt like hundreds of people, and no one seemed to notice me being dragged against my will by this towering immortal to God-knew-where, which meant my invisibility spell was working perfectly. As I struggled to escape, his grip on me only grew stronger, and if I survived this, I was sure there would be bruises. A moment later, Christopher shoved me into a huge limo, like a Hummer limo or something. Griffin sat on one side, and I took the opposite. How was it my spell hadn't affected him? He should've been in severe pain at the mere mention of my name. In my presence, he should've been catatonic. Looking at him, he appeared to be neither. Christopher came in and sat beside me, which made me very uncomfortable. Griffin took out a dagger, one with a forked blade, and set it on his lap. Christopher did the same. I could barely breathe. My heart thundered in my ears, and I imagined my lifeless body in some alley where no one would find it for weeks. Why had my pain spell failed so miserably? "Christopher has unusual skills," Griffin said, as if to answer my question. "He sees magik where we do not. He saw the pain spell you set on me the minute he saw me. I do feel it, but choose not to let it stop me." He paused, looking out the side window. "Natalia isn't from this world, and learned too late it was toxic to her. We expected her to die. When she came to us, healthy and alive, we knew we needed more information." Natalia. I should've known, but typically, recipients of a magikal healing don't snitch on their healers. Yet again, I was mistaken. "Did you get it?" I asked. Griffin's icy gaze came back to me. "That's why you're here. Did Michael know you were about to kill him to save Natalia?" "No," I admitted. I wasn't entirely sure I even needed to be present for this. It seemed as if they'd already convicted me of murder. "But neither did I. Her healing took more magik than I'd anticipated." "Why didn't you tell him?" Christopher asked. "He was your great-grandfather. Is it that easy for you to kill?" "I didn't really know him. And to be clear, it's not about taking a life. It's a transfer of lifeforce, and perfectly acceptable in our world. We do not live in yours. Over many years, I've learned that love is very powerful and people, in love, become willing to sacrifice what they ordinarily would not in the name of it." "Pretty words," Griffin said. "But it's still murder." "Then you require that I live by your rules, even as I live outside your world?" Griffin leaned forward, those icy eyes glittering with menace. "You do not live outside our world." "And yet, until now, you've known nothing about me or my people." "It doesn't matter," Christopher said. "People, human or something else, are not to be killed. You took a respected member of our ranks from us. We hold you accountable." In less than a heartbeat, the tip of his dagger was poised at my throat. My pulse thundered in my head. It had taken them no time at all to find and judge me guilty of a crime. Burning that envelope hadn't changed anything. The moment I'd been fearing since I took Michael's life was upon me. Another second and I'd be dead. Christopher hesitated. And that gave me just what I needed. As his blade pierced my throat, I closed my eyes and silently invoked a smoke spell, the kind where I just disappeared into a dark-blue, smokey cloud. I was and am Noorish, not a witch, and not human. And I'd be damned if I was going to be condemned by those two. I reappeared inside my car, grabbed my bag, invoked the smoke spell again, and was gone in less than a second. I'd likely be running for the rest of my life. If all had gone as expected, I'd be returning to my tribe in Portland. Since it hadn't, I couldn't risk those Eskarians finding my people. Ever. So, I accepted that I'd now lost everything that mattered to me. Yet, I was alive. I could rebuild my life somewhere else, maybe here, or in an underworld, or even in another dimension. (published in Siren's Call Publication issue #54, Summer 2021) The End
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