Chapter 6: Magical Powers R Us - 03
Saturday, July 4th, 2020
Location: Earth, United States of America, Southlake Texas.
Simon Hainsworth, was hating this party. First off, it upset his wife Jenna and her plans for the family to spend the fourth at her parent’s place. Second, because his sweet little Molly was dead set on spending the fourth with her Gran-Gran as originally planned and so he had relented. Dropping her off this morning had been an ordeal, as his six-year-old daughter hadn't wanted daddy to go.
His breaking of a promise to spend the day with her to stand in for his boss was not conducive to a happy home life. Thirdly, his little shit of a teenage son was nowhere to be found. He had asked around and no one had seen him or that platinum blond girl, Alesha. So now he was wandering about and hoping he found Richard before Richard found trouble.
"I swear. If that shit head steps one foot out of place, I'm sending him to the army."
After checking all the rooms in the house and asking the stragglers about his son. Simon was pointed towards the dark side in an area away from prying eyes.
Grumbling internally about the need for networking, stupid sons, and how he really shouldn't be put in a position where he appeared to be working for his boss’s re-election campaign. But the Rosenberg’s were also friends with several Judges and it never hurts to be on a Judge's good side when something inevitably went wrong.
As the music played and the fireworks lit up the sky. Simon found himself walking around the corner and seeing Lesia.
On the ground.
Her neck clearly broken.
Heart thundering, he stared down at something his emotional side screamed wrongness. That there was no reason a dead body should be at THIS party. Let alone the corpse of a lovely young woman.
In his line of work as a prosecutor, he had seen more than enough crime scene photos of dead bodies to recognize that she was dead, and that this was no accident. Within moments, his cellphone was out and 911 dialed.
"911, please state the nature of your emergency."
"Gahhhh! Screamed a young man as the sounds of sizzling flesh rivaled that of the music.
A flash of light, a Crack of thunder and Simon caught a glimpse of that cute little girl from earlier. The Swalwell girl. A trouble magnet who couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of de-escalation or restraint. For he had received more than one complaint by an irate parent about his refusal to press criminal assault charges against the girl after she put someone far larger than her in the hospital. Yet in the world we live in optics matter. And there is only one story anyone would believe when confronted with a conflict between a tiny unarmed girl and an armed big burly man.
“What’s going on!” said the 911 operator.
Snapping back to the present Simon Stepped forward.
"Stop!"
Channeling his inner drill sergeant. Pulled from the days of his enlistment, Simon barked his orders loud and clear.
"Stop this bullshit right this instant!"
Only for Richard alone to notice as another firework went off. Dampening his voice and cutting the desired impact. Richards face however, twisted into a grimace of disappoint, frustration, and finally rage. Just as the scene behind the teenager exploded.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Richard stared at his father in mounting horror. For not once did it ever occur to him that his father would be confronted with his actions. For all his life his stern father had been preoccupied with his career. Allowing him to manipulate his doting mother to deflect any real blame onto someone else. Add in an aggressive and over protective mom who spoiled her only child, and hated the idea that her son could do such a thing. A mother who found that accepting her son’s deflections and aggressively attacking them easier than facing the truth. Add in a father that was often willing to accept whatever bullshit his son fed him so long as it was reasonable. A man who accepted the lies because he was too tired at the end of the day to dig for the truth.
Until now.
With a corpse at his feet there was little doubt as Richard's around the toilet bowl of his impending familial fate. Quickly coming to the conclusion that life could never go back the way it was. His father's eyes were wide open right now and as Richard stood there. Panting, and sore after missing the slippery little bitch, he could only think of two options.
Run, or fight.
As the latest round of fireworks fell and the side of the house fell once more into darkness, Richard summoned up his meager stores of mana and spoke his third spell in a whisper.
“Blink.”
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Markus Swalwell was enjoying the opening of the show up until his wife Megan said, "where's Elizabeth?" Her use of their daughter’s actual name and not the cute pet name she had grown into spoke of true worry. Add in the look of worry written across her face that spoke of her inner momma bear rising to the surface.
Something he fervently did not want to happen. Especially not over a feeling when the reality was that their daughter was just fine. There’s no way she could have gotten into trouble in the fifteen or so minutes since they had last seen her. He just had to explain to her that the girl was probably off with that new friend of hers. With any luck his Tomboy of a daughter might actually find a boyfriend. That Richard bloke didn't seem so bad. But even if that new girl friend of hers was more romantic in nature.
That was fine.
So long as his little pumpkin was safe, healthy and happy.
That’s all that matters.
Now to convince his wife of that.
"She's fine."
"Izzy is probably in the bath-"
~KAAAAAABOOOOOOM~
The blast sounded like an artillery piece in a war movie going off. The crack and blast of wood chips, plaster, plastic, and myriad array of other items rained down on them like a bizarre form of confetti. A haze of fluff, smoke and the smells of chard pork filled the air. While screams lit up the night in horror, fear, panic, and outrage.
“My HOUSE!” screamed their hostess, Patty.
Yet despite all the confusion and chaos all around.
Marcus moved.
Before conscious thought kicked in, he was sprinting across the debris covered lawn towards the source of the explosion. His old high school football coach would have berated him for how much he had let himself go. Still, in spite of the dad bod and the huffing and puffing. Or rather because of it he didn’t think to ask WHY he had moved until he caught sight of a pair of men and a woman who were a lot closer to the blast than him rendering aid to Simon.
A pool of blood and a glimpse of a pincushion of wooden splinters of varying sizes. Most of them the size of a finger as he stared at the sky.
Then beyond.
Marcus’s rational mind catching up to WHY he had moved and a realization that his wife’s instincts in all this were right. A fear that the baby girl that flashed across his mind might be dead. The six-year-old child that smiled up at him as she learned how to ride a bike with training wheels. The Three-year-old that just wanted to be picked up and carried. Her hands reaching up and making grabby motions.
That couldn’t happen.
That wouldn’t happen.
He had to have confidence that she will be ok.
She would be ok.
She MUST be ok.
Yet as he walked through the field of debris. He had a harder and harder time telling himself that. The crushed and splintered remains of this side of the house. The burning smoke that was starting to make everything hurt. The fire that was even now spreading across the lawn as everything was staring to burn.
A few large still forms drew his attention but he pushed on. For while he wanted to save them, he couldn’t afford to be late. And if for some miracle his instincts were wrong and she wasn’t here and they died because he failed to act.
He would happily rot in prison or burn in hell in the knowledge that his little pumpkin was ok. Yet as he continued to pick his way through the devastation, he had keep up his mantra. All the while his fears gnawed into his guts.
She will be ok.
She will be ok.
SHE WILL BE OK NO MATTER WHAT!
His words halting as he found a smaller, still form.
That damned scarf that she loved so much laying across her like some sort of faithful hound. Its form covering her torso and head while leaving the bloody stumps of her limbs exposed. The Jagged and torn remains of her limbs looking more like bloody stringy mop ends than anything resembling a person.
“HELP!”
“I NEED HELP OVER HERE!”
Dropping to his knees next to her as he screamed his lungs out. Marcus Swalwell, pulled at the scarf. The unblemished and glowing scarf looking dirty but otherwise just fine didn’t register at first as the man pulled.
At first it didn’t move.
It was like gripping a multi ton slab of steel.
It didn’t even budge.
“I NEED HELP OVER HERE!”
Putting his back into it, he flopped to the ground as it suddenly came way. Falling onto his back, Marcus found himself holding the scarf as if there was nothing to it.
Gasping for breath, heart thundering, a mixture of fear determination and the hint of an iron will, written across his face. Sitting up, he quickly got onto his hands and knees to find his daughter. Burned and torn clothing where they scarf had laid, yet her uninjured torso rose and fell.
Unconscious but alive.
“I NEED HELP OVER HERE!” he roared.
The encroaching smoke and fire pushing him to risk moving her against his better judgment.
“I’m here,” said a feminine voice.
“Oh dear,” said the girl when she caught site of his little girl.
“Go get help!” snapped Marcus when he caught sight of the girl whose name, he didn’t remember. The one that the Hainsworth boy had brought with him.
“We need an EMT or a doctor here now!”
His shout made the girl flinch as she knelt down beside his little girl. Facing him.
“What are you doing!”
“She needs help NOW!” said Marcus as he started to get up. IF this stupid bitch wasn’t going to go and get help, he would have to do it. For if there was one thing, he was regretting at the moment it was his lack of medical knowledge.
“There isn’t enough time,” said the girl as she put a hand on his shoulder. Somehow forcing himself back onto his knees.
Just as he was about to bit the girl’s head off a look of pain crossed her face. Blood began leaking from her eyes in streams of tears while she began coughing. Yet as he motioned to say something, she held a vertical finger to her lips for him to keep silent. But that wasn’t what held his tongue for the glowing halo over her head lit up their surroundings and the smoke pushed way as if was some sort of curtain that could be pushed aside.
A glow rising from her hands as she reached down to touch his little girl.
The light dimming the moment it touched her but visibly racing across her body. His little pumpkin’s breathing steadied and she began to look slightly better.
“What’s going on?”
“Healing magic,” said the girl as blood began to dribble from her lips.
“But I don’t have it in me to do more than stop the bleeding. I’m too far away,” she said with a grimace. A look of fear and regret crossing her features.
Biting her lip she looked up at him.
“Could you help me?” she asked.
“How?”
Glancing down he found her wounds had stopped bleeding and scabs beginning to form over parts of her stumps. A relief that she would live suffusing him. Yet the cynical part of his mind railed at the thought of his little girl being a crippled for life. His wife being forced to take care of a quadruple amputee for the rest of her life as his fiery little Izzy fell into an endless sea of despair.
Yet a traitorous part of his mind sang with joy at the mere fact that she was alive.
“If you let me use your essence to fuel the spell, I can restore her.”
The hesitant way the girl spoke made him doubt, but small streams of blood leaking down from her eyes, noes and mouth pushed him to ask.
“What’s the price.”
“Everything,” whispered the girl.
But then, to see his little girl running around happy again.
To see the little girl who wanted to be carried by daddy everywhere she went. To see the child, he taught how to ride a bike whole once more. To NOT have to see that same child suffer for the rest of her life.
How could he say no?
“What do you need me to do.”