Returned (6 page)

*

Half an hour later, looking and feeling more like her usual self after a long, hot shower, she was sat at the table. She was pissed, really pissed. Her mother wasn’t home which meant she had to do something, anything
,
to get to the bottom of things and find out what the hell was going on because no one was rushing forward with the information.

             
Snatching her coat from the back of the chair, she made her way to the front door. She didn't know where she was going to start but it wasn't like this place was as big as London. Giving the door a good slam behind her, she set herself a fast pace hoping the fresh air would blow free the translucent sticky strands that had encased her head mere hours before. 

             
He wasn't dead. She felt the first stirrings of panic grab hold of her. What if she'd killed someone? She closed her eyes, there had to be a reasonable explanation. She would not go to prison for something she had no control over.  She wasn't usually this mad, this violent. Something was wrong with her body. She just needed to see a doctor. The feel of her feet pounding against the concrete helped her focus on not hyperventilating. Inhaling her second fulfilling deep breath, she heard it.
His
laugh.
             
             

Chapter 6

       
NOT KNOWING WHEN TO QUIT

Her body jerked at the sound of his laugh. The cold sharp smack of shock ripped the breath right out of her.  He stood ahead of her
,
blocking her path
,
and as usual he had his cronies flanking either side of him. A plethora of feelings fought for pole position.  Anger, the winner. Fear came in at a close second.

He was alive.

A small flutter of happiness flew through her only to be extinguished a second later. She found it overwhelming that one moment she was happy to see him alive and then the next she wanted to smack him.

She sighed in frustration. They were here,
again
.

             
The combination of thinking and walking had been dangerous. She would never do that again. She felt the tight pinch as her nails embedded themselves within her palm. Her body was responding before her brain had caught up. A bubble of sick rose into her mouth, she swallowed it and concentrated on not passing out. She couldn’t judge how much more her body could take. There had to be a reason as to why she felt this kind of pain in his presence? There had to be some explanation? She had never disliked someone so intensely without actually knowing their last name.

             
She took a deep breath in an attempt to stop herself from whimpering. The jagged wisps of his hair flew in all directions, his eyes glared fiercely at her, his Cupid’s bow mouth was set in a thin line. She walked closer to him, this wasn’t easy with the unsteadiness of her legs.

             
He remained glued to the spot. The closer she stepped towards him the more defined his features became. She caught a slight flicker of something in his eyes, was that fear she saw? He'd quickly replaced it with his irritating lopsided smile. She stopped so that their feet were almost touching.

“Look, Jack c-c-come on, she could cast a spell on you,” one of the boys behind him stuttered.

They were both backing away together. Laughter danced around her. Well, at least the wind was happy. And that wasn't a sentence she thought would ever cross her mind.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” he sneered, the grin on his face was easy, carefree. “So, you think you can push me and get away with it.” Jack edged closer still.  

Her smile widened. He seriously thought she'd pushed him, that thought alone was absurd. She could barely lift her own weight let alone push him that distance.

“Go on then, do it again
if you dare,
or is
witchy witch
scared,” he said, taunting her.

             
Before she was able to respond, his movements blurred. One minute he was stood sneering at her, the next he was doubled over. Her lip screamed and she felt the sting in her eyes. One of the chuckle brothers grabbed Jack pulling him up. Jack leaned on his friend but still managed to look up at her with that idiotic smile in place. Sweat was beading down his face giving it a sickly blue glisten. His eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head like he was losing his grip on consciousness. She could see him fighting the grip as he pulled away from his friends and stalked towards her with his left arm wrapped protectively around his stomach.

“I had been warned about this but I’m stronger than you,” he hissed.

Shock snatched away her ability to speak. Warned about what? He had the explanation she craved. The pain in her stomach shifted from bearable to extreme in seconds. Her abs contracted sinking inwards, rippling, pulling backwards. She felt the urge to growl at him. The sky that had been clear blue on this crisp autumn morning was now overcome with bulbous midnight black clouds. She shivered, one hell of a storm was brewing. Jack didn’t acknowledge the darkening sky.

             
Focusing on her own pain, she pulled and grasped it feeling the power build. She didn't have a clue what she was going to do. A crack of thunder protested, roaring across the dark sky. The ground shuddered beneath her feet. Neither of them outwardly acknowledged this change in the weather. The rain didn’t come. He smiled, dimples deepened in his cheeks and then something hit her, hard.

             
In the blink of an eye her feet flew from beneath her and the world rotated. She couldn’t keep track of her body’s position, one moment she could see the large bruises in the sky and then the next she was looking at the road. It felt like a lifetime but it could have only been mere seconds. The ground smashed into her battered body, her hands flew out scraping across the hard tarmac. She coughed forcing her paralysed lungs to function again. She looked at her hand and found the skin hanging limp, revealing muscle.

             
Thunder rumbled making her body vibrate. Wind howled as it pulsed around her. Laughter didn't follow, instead it hissed angrily. She stood up shaking from the force that had just hit her. What had just hit her? His fist?  She ignored the pain in her hand and raised both hands out in front of her.  Clenching her fists and ignoring the sharp cry from the fresh wound embedded with pieces of the road, she willed the pain to leave her body. She felt the punch of power blast out of her. She watched the thing move at lightning speed and then witnessed the way the iron fist smashed straight into Jack's chest. The impact slammed his clothes into his flesh. He flew ten feet back and hit the floor with a sickening
thud
.

             
The wind continued to howl and encase her as she gingerly stepped a little closer to his limp body. He didn’t move. She stepped closer, her pace quickened. His head lay on the concrete, his brow was scrunched together clearly showing the pain.

             
Rushing forward as guilt overwhelmed her, she didn't care if this was a trick. She bent beside him as the thunder continued to rumble in the distance. He was still breathing and the relief she felt from that was frightening. She wasn't a medical professional but breathing was definitely a good sign.

             
She rubbed at her eyes and took several deep breaths. When she looked back at him her blood ran cold, goose pimples broke out over her skin. He was….. She could barely believe it.

             
Cora scrambled back feeling the nauseating slap of pain in her hands. In her only clear moment of the last twenty-four hours she stood and took one last look at Jack before she ran.

Chapter 7

ANSWERS

             
Relief flooded through her when she caught sight of the three protective witches stood guarding
The Broom Cupboard.
This woman had saved her once, she desperately hoped she would do it again. And the voice of a floating figure had told her to ask Tabitha. She didn’t know why she was listening to this floating figure? Perhaps it was because this was the only
person
offering her advice at the moment.

             
She continued to run down the street ignoring the way her lungs screamed at her.
She watched the wind play with fallen leaves along the pavement. The leaves swirled in front of her, the changing colours of copper and yellow creating an autumn rainbow. It was a sure sign that the beginning of autumn was killing the lush green leaves she had seen only a day before. If Jack wasn’t currently unconscious on the floor, when would it have stopped? How much damage would they inflict on each other until that damage was something you couldn’t recover from? At this rate, the death of the leaves wouldn't be the only one to happen in this village.

             
She skidded to a stop outside the shop and saw her reflection in the window screaming back at her. Her hair, dragged free from the bobble restraining i
t, was puffed out at odd angles. H
er face was ghostly white, the dark shade of her eyes making her look paler than she was.

             
As her hand touched the handle, the fierce wind that had followed her since running from Jack suddenly died away leaving a quiet eerie calm. She felt like she was hyperventilating as the bell tinkled above her head. She sucked in a deep breath, cinnamon and dust engulfed her. The nausea that had hit yesterday was coming back in gigantic waves, her head was dipping and rolling. She tried to grab the banister but her hands had other plans. She was sure they went through the banister but barely registered this as the damn of blood burst rendering her deaf. The unwelcome darkness was creeping into her vision.

“Hello, child,” Tabitha spoke, her words were fuzzy like they were wrapped in cotton wool.

She opened her eyes and saw two Tabitha’s in her line of vision. Her legs crumbled beneath her. Her hand reached for the rail again but the floor rushed closer to her face. The final thought to go through her head was how much it would hurt when her face connected with wood. Wood didn't cushion bone, it crunched.

             
Before her face hit wood she felt a strong arm slide around her waist holding her up. She leant into the body as Tabitha guided her to the only table. Grabbing the cup as soon as she sat, she took big gulps of the hot drink trying to push away the
huge lump lodged in her throat. T
he sting of scolding water made her mouth numb. She repositioned the cup in her hand which made it throb painfully.

“I think I killed Jack, the boy who was at the shop yesterday.”

Panic rose in her throat as she said it making her voice squeak at the end. He couldn't be dead, the dead didn't... they didn't
do
what he was. Her breath came in small uncontrollable gasps. She could feel another panic attack charging forward to take a hold of her. The high pitched laugh startled her. She looked at Tabitha, shocked. Not one part of this was bloody funny. Nothing made sense to her, the wind and its laughter. Her life was crumbling into one big confusing mess.

             
Before she could stop it, anger fuelled every cell in her already aching body. The wind howled outside bashing up against the closed shop door.

“Enough of that!” Tabitha snapped. “You don’t need to conjure the wind every time you get angry.”

She gasped. What had she just said?

“I suspect you want answers?”

Had Tabitha said that she was controlling the wind? That wasn’t possible. No one controlled the wind. It controlled itself. Laughter danced around her almost like it was contradicting that very thought.

“Yesterday, your mother came to me, she was upset because we both knew as soon as the weather changed and the storm built that something had happened. I know, have seen firsthand, that we can get four different seasons in one day but the storm you created was beyond that. Just one moment,” Tabitha murmured as she stood and left the room heading down the staircase.

Her mother had come here in a panic? When? Tabitha drifted effortlessly up the stairs carrying a big blue book covered in a sheet of dust.

“Wh-what has happened to my mother?” she stammered.

Tabitha looked at her, confusion making her eyebrows collide. “As far as I know nothing has happened.”

“She’s not home. She was but then she left and didn’t tell me where she was going.”

“Perhaps she needed time alone. She will be at home when you get back, I’m sure.”

“You don’t know that. She could be anywhere. You don’t know me or my mother.”