Balance - Book 2

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Balance - Book 2 Page 35

by Marc Dickason

CHAPTER 14

  If you had asked me how I would feel seeing my grandmother again, even five minutes before it happened, the answer I gave would have been dead wrong. I was elated. Nostalgia and joy exploded in my head, washing my body with warm liquid. My mouth even curled up into an involuntary smile despite me warning it not too.

  Grandma is here, grandma is here!

  The spell I believed long gone was still very much alive and kicking. Even if only shattered fragments of its original self, feverishly pulsing and attempting to re-establish roots. I resisted.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I muttered.

  But even as my head washed with artificial delight, my uninjured hand balled into a fist. The flame exploded, roaring into a mushroom cloud I was sure would split my sides and go pouring out, scorching all it touched. The resulting contrast was internal war.

  I watched Fran Clarence and the young man approach Little Judy. Trisha, a smile still on her face, ignored them.

  The young man knelt and examined Judy’s drawing, then handed it to my grandmother. She nodded.

  “Do you like my picture,” Judy asked, giggling in pride.

  “Yes,” gran replied, “you’re a very special child, aren’t you?”

  The little girl giggled again. “Yes.”

  “Who’s this in your picture here?” gran asked, touching the horse figure with a liver spotted hand.

  “Albert.”

  “And who’s Albert?”

  “A horse. He’s an angel. But sometimes I don’t like it when he visits.”

  “I see.” Gran exchanged another nod with the suited man.

  “Come along, Judy,” he said, “come with us.”

  “Where?”

  “Just come along. No questions.”

  “But mommy…”

  “Never mind mommy.”

  He stared into her eyes. She stood and allowed herself to be led to the door. Before the trio exited, the suited man turned to Trisha.

  “Judy Carlson is no longer here. And she never was. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Trisha agreed.

  The door closed.

  I watched, waiting to see what else would occur. Trisha maintained her focus on thin air.

  “Where did they take her?” I asked.

  “Judy!” The word burst from the woman’s mouth and I jumped. “Judy! Oh God, Judy! They took her! They took her!”

  She crumpled to her knees. Tears streamed down her face and hands twisted into agonised claws. The classroom darkened, white walls shuddered as gold veins crawled across their surface.

  “Trisha,” I whispered, “Its okay, its okay. It’s not your fault. Forget it, leave it all behind. We’re at our desk. I walked in, I sat down, and we talked. Nothing more.”

  I withdrew. The world retracted and was drawn away. We were sitting at the desk.

  “Trisha,” I prompted, “Are you alright? You drifted there for a moment.”

  “Oh. Yes.” She blinked. “I’m sorry. I had a most peculiar sensation just now.”

  “Working too hard, maybe?”

  “Yes, that must be it.”

  “Well, thank you for your time.”

  “Were you leaving?”

  “Yes, thank you. Good day.” I hesitated at the door. “Trisha? One other thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember me? Do I look familiar at all?”

  She squinted. “Why, no I don’t believe you do. Were you a student here?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she said with a smile, “I have interacted with many children in my years. Been working here for most my life, you see.”

  “I understand. Thank you anyway.”

  The taxi ride home was lost in bemused reflection, bandaged hand cradled in my lap.

  ‘My first real breakthrough,’ I thought, gazing out the window as celebratory cheers went up in my head. The mission I had started six months ago with nothing, no leads and no professional support, had borne fruit. My grandmother located.

  ‘What now?’

  Nothing I had discovered had been done legally; so could not be reported. At least, not without also handing over a signed confession. Indeed, my spine tingled at the thought of what appeared to be going on in that school. But sending myself to a Magical Detention Centre was not on my to-do list.

  Could I put in a report as a concerned citizen, or perhaps anonymous citizen, saying that I thought something was amiss at the school? Yes. And the Enforcers would go stomping around making enquiries, doing what they did. Would they follow the leads, unravel the bullshit and bring those responsible to justice? …Perhaps. Would they focus in on my grandmother and make every effort to find my mother? …Possibly. Did I think ‘possibly’ and ‘perhaps’ were reassuring?

  “I have to do it myself,” I muttered.

  “What’s that?” the taxi driver asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Another thought was jostling for a place in my head. There was no ignoring what had been suggested. Somewhere out there I had biological parents. It had occurred to me previously that Liza Clarence might not be my biological mother, but this had all but stamped the writing on the wall.

  I felt my uninjured hand cover my face and sank into the backseat. “I don’t need this.”

  A hiss from the front seat drew my attention; the taxi driver sucking in a breath. I looked up. He was staring at me goggle eyed in the rear view mirror.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  But before he answered I felt a presence beside me. My demon - it looked at me with blue face expressionless.

  “Hello,” I said to it, “something I can help with?”

  It did not respond.

  “I have this under control,” I continued, “There’s no reason for you to be here. It was just a surprise, that’s all. Who wouldn’t be a little shaken learning something like that?”

  It gazed at me.

  “What? It’s not about that? What then? The school? The D.O.M can’t be counted on to find her, you know that. It’s been six God damned months and they haven’t achieved what I just did. It needs to be done right. I need to do it.”

  “Scratching around in the dirt,” it said.

  My face flushed with ice. For a long moment there was only the hum of the car’s engine.

  “What did you say to me?” I breathed.

  It refused to repeat the statement.

  “I have this under control,” I whispered, “You hear me? Now get the hell out of here. You’re not welcome.”

  It regarded me evenly, deciding if I was trying to convince it or myself.

  “I said, I have this under control and I don’t need you! So get the hell out of here!”

  I threw up my bandaged hand attempting to make a dismissive wave. But managed to bash it against the headrest of the driver’s seat. Pain exploded and I sucked in a breath through grimacing teeth. The demon did not look sympathetic.

  “Hey pal, you okay back there?” the taxi driver asked, “Want me to pull over?”

  But I ignored him. Sweat gathered on my face as I bit back pain. The interior of the taxi was swimming nauseatingly. I felt my hand grapple at my top pocket, temporarily forgetting there were no painkillers to be found.

  “Scratching in the dirt,” the demon repeated.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My Place of Calm was located and, instantly, the pain became a bit more bearable. I opened my eyes and turned to the demon.

  “Go away, please.”

  For a suffocating second I thought it would not obey. Then it faded and was gone, leaving only the drone of the vehicle.

  “Hey,” the taxi driver said.

  I looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. He seemed calm, perhaps even mildly entertained.

  “Sorry about that,” I muttered. “Do you have any coffee? I could really use some.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes. In a flask or something?”

&nb
sp; “You’re in luck pal.”

  He handed back a flask. I spun off the lid and drank straight from the container. It was heavenly.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem. You’re an Enforcer, right?’

  “Yes.”

  “Thought so, heard about you guys and that weird demon stuff.”

  “You don’t have to be an Enforcer to have a demon.”

  I took another gulp of coffee, eyes flicking to the seat beside me. The demon remained gone.

  “Hey, you okay though, right? Want me to call the D.O.M or something?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And that blue thing? It was a demon?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s mind blowing. For real! Never seen a thing like that before, then twice in one week. Saw that horse on the news with that girl who got shot. But holy shit this here was the real thing. Sure you’re okay? Don’t need me to pull over? We can call the D.O.M.”

  “No.”

  “Okay, buddy. You’re the boss. Just don’t mess up my taxi or anything. Okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  The rest of the coffee was drained and flask handed back empty.

 

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