First Magic by Raven Steele (classic fiction .TXT) 📕

My eyelids fluttered open. It took a few seconds for my vision to clear and focus on the face hovering over me. Christian. And behind him stood officer Pieut.

“Llona. Llona! Can you hear me?” Christian said. I moaned and tried to sit up.

“Lay still,” the officer said. “Help is on the way.”

“No. I’m fine. I just want to go home.” I stood, but my legs gave out when I saw the blood again. Christian caught me.

“Why don’t you take her home?” Officer Pieut asked. “We can get her statement later.”

“Thanks, officer.” Christian kept his arm around my waist as he guided me to his car. “It’s okay. I’ll get you out of here.”

I let him help me into the passenger seat. I even allowed him to buckle my seatbelt. All I wanted to do was pretend I was dreaming. Any minute I’d wake up. The blood, the torn scalp never existed. Death and violence wasn’t following me. But when I opened my eyes, I couldn’t fool myself.

“Do the police know what happened?” I whispered as he drove out of the parking lot.

Christian took hold of my hand. “There was another murder.”

“But I didn’t see a body.”

“The police found it across town. It appears the murderer attacked a woman in the school parking lot and then dumped her body at the park.”

“Did we know her?”

He squeezed my hand. “No. It was the mom of a kid from another school. The team we were playing against.”

I turned to him, my heart skipping a painful beat. “Was she the mom of one of the kids who attacked me?”

“Why would you think that?”

I shook my head, unable to answer, but my stomach replied, twisting and turning in knots.

“I told the police what happened,” Christian said. “I’m sure we’ll find out later who it was.”

I leaned back in the seat, feeling even more sick. “Why my car?”

“You need to know that this had nothing to do with you. It was just a coincidence, nothing more.”

“And the shoe?”

His eyes met mine. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise. You trust me, right?”

I nodded.

“Good.”

Nothing else was said until he pulled into my driveway. “Let’s go inside and get you to bed. I’ll explain everything to your uncle.”

I nodded again and let my mind shut down. Christian would take care of everything.

I slept in the next morning. When I stretched my arms they felt better, stronger. But my mind felt like it had been battered by horror films all night.

Jake accosted me the moment I stepped out of my room. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

He hugged me. “I was worried about you.”

I walked into the kitchen and pulled a mug out of the cupboard. “So what happened after I went to bed last night?”

Jake took the cup from my hand and poured orange juice into it. “Christian stayed for a while, filling me in. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

I shrugged and turned on the oven. German pancakes sounded really good right now.

“What should we do about my car?” I asked, taking out eggs and milk from the fridge.

Jake pushed me aside and began to crack the eggs.

“Just two,” I said.

“The police will have it for a couple of weeks. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Hell yes.” I’d be happy if I never saw the thing again. I measured a cup of flour, but Jake took it from me too. “Would you stop already? I’m fine!”

“I’m sure you are. How much milk?”

I gave in and just let him do it. “One cup.”

Jake stirred for a minute. “The police stopped by this morning.”

“They did?”

“They want your statement. I told them you’d go by the station later today.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

“No. I can do it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I let out a long sigh. “I think so. No. But I will be.”

“I’m here for you. If you ever need to talk.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“Oh, I almost forgot," Jake said. "Christian called and asked if he could come over tonight. I told him it was fine."

“Okay. Thanks.”

After we finished eating, I said, “I met Mr. Stockett.”

“You did? Where?” Jake asked.

“I was at Christian’s house last night. How come you never told me you work for his dad?”

“I didn’t think it mattered. What were you doing there?”

“Washing off paint. I was only there for a little while.”

Before he could question me further, I asked, “How come I never knew my dad went to a private school?”

Jake stiffened. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Stockett.”

Jake waited a moment before he answered. “He went to one for a little while. It’s where he met your mother.”

“I thought he met her in Vegas?”

Jake glanced at me sideways. “Yeah, sort of.”

“So which is it?”

He threw up his hands. “I don’t know. I only heard about it. I don’t remember the details.”

“Then what about my dad’s accident?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Stockett said my dad was being careless. Why would he say that?”

Jake clenched his fists. “It’s none of his business.”

“But why would he say that? Is there something I don’t know about my father’s death?”

“I’m not having this conversation.” He stood. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Jake—”

“Another time, Tink.” He disappeared before I could say another word.