The young man stood there, studying her unwaveringly, his features stoic and unreadable even as his gaze roamed over her from head to toe, taking in all the details of her. Somehow, his gaze landing on her felt like a physical touch...a light caress that caused her breath to catch in her throat and her heart to miss several hard beats.

Mesmerized by watching him as he watched her and unable, or maybe unwilling, to look away from him, Bethalie suddenly couldn't help but notice the way he was breathing. He was taking in long, hard breaths, his nostrils flaring open wide, as if he was smelling something he'd never happened upon, something he couldn't quite understand. And then it dawned on her that he was smelling...her.

For a second, she was completely mortified and began desperately trying to remember if she'd showered that morning or if she'd forgotten to put on deodorant. But, judging by the rather fervent light in his eyes, she didn't think he seemed offended. On the contrary, he appeared intrigued by whatever scent was wafting from her, which swept her with a mix of both relief and confusion.

In the back of her mind, she acknowledge that it was a very strange and personal way to behave toward someone, however, it didn't seem to bother her as much it maybe should have. Honestly, he could have knelt down and licked her boots and she wouldn't have said boo.

Abruptly and without warning, the young man let his hands drop from her shoulders down to his sides—she hadn't even realized that he was still holding onto her—and took a quick step back from her, breaking the odd time warp she'd been suspended in and allowing the sounds of the hallway, which had been all but blotted out, to rush back in on her, causing her to flinch with a start.

"Here, let me help you," he spoke in a deep, slightly coarse voice that caused chill bumps to rise up along her arms.

As he moved past Bethalie to start scooping up the books scattered out over the floor, she found herself feeling disoriented and off kilter, like she'd just stepped off a merry-go-round and couldn't quite steady her legs. She was a bit breathless and her insides were dancing and she couldn't be sure that she wasn't going to vomit. It was very discombobulating and yet, kind of...exhilarating. Well, if she laid aside the possibility of vomiting on her own shoes.

The ruggedly stunning young man very swiftly gathered her text books and then strode back to her, placing his large hand on the small of her back and gently urging her to turn toward her locker. Bethalie jolted at the notion of him touching her again and she went stiff as a board, feeling somewhat flabbergasted that this incredibly handsome person would willingly assist her in full view of other people.

He was so...gorgeous. She was so...not. It certainly wasn't every day that someone who looked like him would be seen having anything to do with someone who looked like her. In a high school setting, that move could wind up making his life a veritable hell. He didn't seem to care, though. He simply stepped her up to her locker, keeping his honey hued eyes focused on her as if she was the only person in the entire hallway, seemingly unconcerned that someone might see him with the weird, red headed new girl.

"This locker is a little tricky," he stated, giving the thin slip of aluminum a hard whack with his fist and then easily lifting the handle and opening the door.

He deftly stacked her books onto the top shelf and then reached for the combination lock that was still dangling from her fingers, threading it through the handle, leaving her with only her binder, which she hadn't even realized she was still holding onto.

"Thank you," she croaked out as he once again pinned her with his intense gaze, sweeping her with a pang of self-consciousness.

Gulping, she found herself wanting to clutch the binder to her chest in an effort to conceal herself, but swiftly fought off the urge. He'd already feasted his eyes on her plank-like figure, so what was the use in trying to hide it now?

"You're welcome," he replied, an expression of curiosity crossing his face as he noticed that she was white knuckling her notebook.

"Bethalie!" a piercing voice exploded in her ear, causing her to let out a terrified shriek and jump at least a foot off the floor, with Zandy swooping in before she'd even landed, grabbing a book from her locker, slamming the door shut and snatching her by the arm. "Thank you for your help, but I can take it from here!" she then shot at the young man, her tone harsh and ice cold.

As Bethalie was spun around and pulled bodily down the hallway, she had to glance back, wanting to get a last look at him, but he was...gone. She quickly looked up and down the corridor, but saw no sign of him in either direction. Confused, she turned her attention to Zandy, who was stalking along beside her, scowling as if she'd just stepped in something that she found repugnant.

"Who...who was that?" she asked hoarsely, feeling as if she needed to shake herself to.

Zandy made a little snorting sound in the back of her throat. "That was Gabriel Isabell," she responded in a tone implying that she was speaking of some thing rather than someone.

Gabriel Isabell?

Dawdy, that was the most wonderful name she'd ever heard. It sounded just like one of the characters in those cheezy romance novels Heather was always reading. Not that she would ever admit to reading one of those rags herself....

Shooting her a knowing look, Zandy gave her blonde head a firm shake. "He's gorgeous, I know. But, you want to stay away from him and his bunch. Trust me! Getting mixed up in all that would be suicide."

Suicide? Well, that wasn't foreboding or anything.

She wanted to ask Zandy what was so bad about Gabriel Isabell—Gabriel Isabell...she could not get over that name—but, at that point they'd entered their first period class, the bell ringing right behind them, forcing her to put Gabriel Isabell out of her mind.

The first half of Bethalie's day was fairly uneventful, and was spent hustling from class to class, being introduced to her teachers who introduced her to her peers, and then discovering just how dreadfully far behind she actually was.

She hadn't really known what to expect of her first day, but again, all those movies she'd been watching came to mind, along with lessons on mixing up potions and reading tea leaves. Honestly, she would have much preferred those things over Calculus and American Government. Ugh.

But, as it turned out, the classes were standard and the kids in those classes were pretty normal, if first impressions meant anything. If there were Witches and Vampires sitting alongside her, she certainly couldn't pick them out. In fact, she was the weirdest person that she saw. And she very quickly came to realize that she was likely the only person attending Wyckhaven High who was actually...different. Meaning that, even in a town where people claimed she could be herself, she really couldn't. If Tarot Cards and silent interviews were what the folks in Wyckhaven considered unique, they certainly wouldn't know what to make of her.

As the morning wore on and some of Bethalie's nerves began to wear off, she was able to finally take in her surroundings and she found the school itself to be a bit more...out of the ordinary...than any school she'd attended. It was one of the brightest, most cheerfully decorated schools she'd ever seen. The classrooms were all painted in jolly, lively colors. There were long, sheer, flowy curtains hanging over all the windows, diffusing the light pouring in from outside, mountains of candles flickering in the corners, and the air throughout the place was thick was incense smoke. There were shelves filled with books and knick-knacks, scarf draped tables scattered with colorful stones and gems, and there were scads of fresh fall flower arrangements banked on nearly every available surface. Even the hallways were vibrant, with all the walls painted in varying shades of yellow and the rows of lockers done in deep, rich tones of red, purple, and blue.

The place felt very comfortable and cozy and ethereal, kind of like being inside a mystical Gypsy camp, which was the absolute opposite of the sterile, prison like environment of most other schools. Perhaps, if the other schools out in the world were done up like Wyckhaven High, kids wouldn't mind showing up.

It was during the middle of third period, just before lunch break, when her name was suddenly called over the loud speaker, summoning her to the front office. Bethalie left Physics class, thankfully, taking her binder and book with her. Zandy followed behind, instructing her to take her things to her locker before they went on to the office.

Poor Zandy was flushed and breathless as they made their way to the main hall, reminding Bethalie that she was going to be meeting the formidable sounding Elder Wyck. The notion caused her stomach to clench tightly. Clearly, if Zandy's reaction was any indication, meeting this Elder Wyck was a very big deal and she had no idea how she herself was supposed to react. Or even if she was supposed to react at all. So, maybe it was best if she just played it cool and tried to seem as calm and un-intimidated as possible? 

She didn't like to show any sort of weakness if she could help it. It kept the Tad Somersbys of the world from making her life that much more miserable.

Just before they reached the glass wall of the office, Zandy suddenly paused and put her hand over her heart, pulling in a long, noisy breath. For a second, Bethalie thought the girl was going to faint dead away. However, with some effort and few more ragged inhalations, she did manage to pull herself together enough to continue onward, though all the color began to slowly drain from her face as they went.

Abruptly feeling ever so slightly panic stricken, Bethalie follow the pale, panting girl into the office, but didn't see anyone other than the bespectacled secretary about, causing relief to flood through her.

"Hello, girls!" the secretary beamed at them. "Elder Wyck is in with Principal Mooresham. He'll be out to speak with you shortly."

Crap. She thought she'd lucked up. She should have known better.

Zandy led her over to the chairs in the corner and they sat down. Zandy was all but hyperventilating and she sat as stiff as a board in her seat, which did not help to alleviate the uneasy knot in Bethalie's stomach. What was the big deal about this man? Was he as daunting and rigid as his name suggested? Was he nasty and threatening enough to spark fear in the hearts of those around him? It almost seemed that would be the case, except Zandy didn't exactly appear to be filled with fear or dread. It was more like...she was about to be introduced to the lead singer of her favorite boy band and she was all but frothing with nervous expectation.

"Elder Wyck, this is our new student, Bethalie Owens," the secretary stated, causing Bethalie to glance toward the front desk and she and Zandy both sucked in simultaneous loud breaths.

Coming toward them was a man unlike anyone she'd ever seen. He was a pale, breathtaking vision dressed all in black. He wore high black boots with heavy silver hardware, black jeans, a black button down shirt, black leather trench coat that touched the floor, and black leather gloves covering his hands. All the dark clothing, which might have looked like some sort of Goth cosplay get up on anyone else, made the rest of him stand out in sharp contrast.

And the rest of Elder Wyck was amazing.

The man's skin was as pale as a beam of moonlight. It almost seemed to shimmer as Bethalie looked at him. His hair was almost as pale and hung down past his shoulders in a silvery, gossamer curtain. That curtain of silvery-blonde hair framed a face that was just...stunning. He had thin silvery brows that were formed into slight peaks, features that were sharp and elegant, and a firm mouth that was held in such a way so as to imply it was only rarely used to smile. But, it was the color of his large, almond shaped eyes that left her taken aback. They were a shade of blue that was so light, they almost seemed clear, like placing a single drop of blue paint into a glass of water. They were strange and disconcerting eyes and judging by the way they were shrewdly assessing her, she was almost certain they could peer into her very soul.

"Hello, ladies. I'm so sorry I've kept you waiting," Elder Wyck said, smiling down at them. His voice was deep and velvety smooth and the sound of it lifted the hairs on her arms and she had no idea why.

"Y-y-you didn't keep us w-waiting, Elder Wyck," Zandy answered weakly, her brown eyes wide and star struck and her cheeks flushing scarlet.

It dawned on Bethalie that the beautiful, pale man standing in front of her didn't seem quite old enough to be addressed as Elder. In fact, he couldn't have been older than in his early forties, if even that.

"How are you, Zandy?" Elder Wyck questioned in a friendly sort of tone. "Is the family well?"

Zandy let out a choked gasp, again putting her hand over her heart. "We...we've...they're all fine, th-thank you. I'll tell them you asked." The poor girl looked on the verge of blacking out from the very thrill of having Elder Wyck remember that she had a name, let alone a family.

"And you, Miss Bethalie Owens? How are you getting on this fine morning?" he asked, turning his nearly clear eyes back to Bethalie.

Bethalie wasn't quite sure she liked the way those strangely clear eyes were regarding her, studying her. But, she stiffened her spine and tried not to show it. "I'm doing alright," she answered evenly, keeping her gaze steady with his.

"Are you being welcomed warmly and treated kindly?" he went on, his tone going serious.

She nodded, but Zandy answered. "I'm helping to show Bethalie around and making sure that everyone is being nice."

Well, everyone had been nice to her, if staring at her and saying not a single word counted as nice.

"And your host family? Are they treating you well? Making you feel at home?" he wondered somberly.

"Yes. They're very nice to me," she stated honestly.

The Cuthberts were treating her incredibly well. Better than her own flesh and blood had ever treated her, in fact. Her room over the garage was comfortable and private. They made sure she had supper with them every night and they went out of their way to include her in all of their family things so that she wouldn't feel left out.

"I'm glad to hear it. The Cuthberts are a fine lot. They'll do right by you," Elder Wyck said with an open measure of relief, as if he was actually concerned as to how she was being treated.

Elder Wyck paused the conversation long enough to slip out of his long coat and lay it into the empty chair beside Zandy. Removing the coat revealed just how lean and well put together he was and Bethalie had to steal a quick moment to admire him. The man had the muscular physique of a professional athlete, with shapely legs, a narrow waist, broad chest and large biceps that were straining against the fabric of his shirt. Taking in the sight of him, she could completely understand why Zandy wanted to feast her eyes.

Removing his leather gloves and tossing them onto his coat, Elder Wyck held a hand out to Bethalie, causing Zandy to let out a strangled breath of air. The same sound was almost instantly mimicked by the secretary, who was watching the proceedings from behind the front desk.

"I'm sure you have questions, Miss Owens. Let us go for a walk and get things cleared up, shall we?" he urged and both Zandy and the secretary repeated their strangled gasps.

A ripple of trepidation ran through Bethalie and she hesitated, her body going taut as she caught sight of Zandy's huge eyes and utterly shocked expression, complete with open mouth. Was she not supposed to touch Elder Wyck? Was that considered some sort of social faux pas? But, if that was the case, then why was he standing there with his hand held out to her?

After waffling for a few seconds, Bethalie decided to risk it and took hold of the pale, attractive hand. She was new in Wyckhaven. If touching a hand purposely being held out to her was a no-no, then there should be a sign up somewhere, warning her against it.

However, as Elder Wyck's fingers wrapped around hers, she received a sharp jolt that caused her to flinch. The hand holding hers was large and strong, so strong she could feel the power behind his grip, despite that he was being gentle, and she acknowledged that a hand like that could cause a whole lot of pain, if the owner ever decided to use it for that purpose. But, it wasn't the strength of the hand holding hers that shocked her. It was the feel of the skin that was touching hers. It was as smooth as silk and felt as cold as a winter morning. There was not a single speck of warmth in that powerful hand.

What the...? Dawdy, had the temperature outside dropped that quickly? It hadn't even been very cold when she'd left for school early that morning.

"Come along, Miss Owens," Elder Wyck urged as he carefully pulled her to her feet.

He was smiling softly down at her, the expression on his pale, shimmering features an odd mixture of wistfulness and incredulity, as if he couldn't believe he was finally getting to see her again after such a long time. Only, she and Elder Wyck had most certainly never met before.

Her hand was tucked through the crook of Elder Wyck's very muscled arm and she was led out of the office, leaving both Zandy and the secretary to stare after them with their jaws hanging open.

Zandy did manage to pick her bottom lip up off the floor and catch up with them quickly enough, though. She positioned herself beside Bethalie as they walked and took to shooting wide eyed looks at Elder Wyck every few seconds. Bethalie was pretty sure she picked up on more than a hint of envy in those brown eyes and if she'd had a choice, she would have traded places with the girl in a heartbeat. She didn't exactly mind walking along the unfamiliar hallways on the arm of Elder Wyck, who seemed genuinely concerned about her, but he did keep glancing down at her in a way that caused confusion to waft through her.

"Now, there are many points to discuss, but I think we should begin by talking about your test results," Elder Wyck began as he led the three of them along the main hallway.

Ah. The tests. Tarot Cards, past life readings, and word free interviews. She could not wait to hear those results!

"I don't know if you've ever wondered whether there is a name for someone with your particular talents, but I'm going to give one to you." There was a slight pause during which Bethalie felt she was about to be given some incredibly hard and dire news. "You, Bethalie, are a Witch. And by all accounts, a rather powerful Witch. Green, of course, but powerful," Elder Wyck revealed, his clear eyes focusing on her and making her feel a bit off balance.

Bethalie stared. "Oh, I-I'm not. I'm not...that. I'm just...a....a..." Freak? Monster? Abomination? She'd been called all those things. Somehow, though, Witch sounded better. Ridiculous, but marginally better.

"Indeed, you are a Witch," Elder Wyck asserted. "Just as Zandy here is a Witch. Just as every student that attends this school is a Witch. So, you are now among those who are just the same as you."

Bethalie looked toward Zandy Babbitt, who gave her an eager nod. The girl certainly didn't look like a Witch. A teen soap star, maybe. But, a Witch? No. Of course, she had no idea just what a person who thought they were a Witch was supposed to look like, though black robes and pointy hats came to mind.

However, no matter that the kids in Wyckhaven High identified as Witches...they were not the same as her. She honestly doubted that anyone, anywhere was the same as her.