Ask me no questions...

Chapter 3: Epic roadtrip fail

Danger

Everything seems to happen in slow motion. Yet I cannot move at all. The CPS people insist I pack my things. I don't have a bag. I have never left this house before. They don't seem to grasp that.
"I was born here. She bought this place as soon as she knew I was a warlock. I was born in her bathtub. I have literally never been outside," I plead.
"I don't care," West, eating an apple, looking bored.
"I don't know who that guy is—my father," I say, swallowing hard, "Please let me just stay here? With someone checking on me?"
The answer is no. The answer is a very firm no. My father is on the birth certificate he is my next of kin. I'm going to stay with him till my mother is found.
"What if she comes back and I'm not here?" I plead, tears in my eyes now, "Please, she'll—,"
"We'll tell her where you are," the CPS comfort me a little but they are panicked. There were two strange noises while they were packing my clothes. After close inspection of the CCTV footage, both those nosies were Commissioner West, banging on the wall, because he thought we'd go quicker if frightened.
"I thought you'd go quicker if you were frightened. I still think that. Because you did go quicker," he says, texting.
"Has someone told my dad we're coming?" I ask, powering down the laptop and going to check the plants, "What about the plants I—,"
"Super don't care," West, still texting.
"I was not talking to you—," I say, hand on hip.
"We'll have someone come by," the CPS are so desperate to get out of here. Two warlocks in one space is about as safe as volunteering to be a nuclear testing site.
"Right, get in the car," West says, snapping his fingers.
"Has someone told him? What if he doesn't want me?" I ask.
"He doesn't have the choice," West says, "Car. Now."
His car is very sleek Land Rover. I've seen the commercials. But I wasn't ready for the sickly sweet, new car smell. The seats are smooth leather. I've seen my mother's corolla but I've never been in it. I put the suitcase CPS helped me pack in the back. It doesn't have enough stuff. I packed my laptop and things but what about the food in the fridge? What about my extra socks I probably don't have enough? I left my trackers and took fresh sheets, but what if she wants to come and get me and have the old ones? And I missed all my classes today. How long will this take? Nobody has answered me. They don't know.
I crawl in the front seat, hesitantly. My khakis slip on the leather. I buckle myself in, fumbling a bit. I've seen people do it movies. It snaps in and I tug the door shut.
"You have to slam it," West says, looking over at me disdainfully, "Do it again."
I slam the door a little, "I've never been in a car before."
He nods a little like he got that, "You listen to music?"
"I'm only allowed to listen to the radio in the mornings," I shake my head no.
He flicks on the radio, which hums to life.
I fidget in my seat. This is it? I'm just supposed to sit here? I should have brought a book. I have homework.
I sniff back tears, rubbing my face. Everything is messed up. I'm supposed to be at home. I'm supposed to wait for her.
"I'm not supposed to listen to modern music," I say.
"You don't have to narrate this, it's fine, I don't need to know," West says, turning up the radio.
"Did you call my father?" I ask.
"No. We're moving first, it's a few hours out there," he says, looking in the rear view mirror.
"What if he doesn't want me?" I ask, softly. He's never been around.
"Look, kid, I've had a run in. Or five. With Jason Forrest over the years. He has a few kids with his wife and takes in any stray he comes across, no matter how supernatural. I've picked up dhampire and werewolf traces around his place by now he probably has a selkie. He is not in the position to refuse shit," Ash scoffs.
"What's he like?" I ask.
"An idiot. He breaks the rules, I might have mentioned keeping vampires as pets? His wife's no better. Trouble and waste far too much of my damn time. But he's a damn good hunter when wants to be," he says.
"He has a wife?" I guess he said that he had other kids. That's why he doesn't want me? Or never did.
"Yes. She's fine, probably won't like you though. Like I said massive pains if you're me and trying to get things done," he scoffs.
I nod a little, "Do you know where my mom is, do you think?"
"No. If I did I'd be telling her to go home and parent you. Or whatever she thought she was doing," he says.
"She was keeping me alive," I say.
He scoffs a little.
"She was! Most warlocks die before age ten. It's a miracle I'm as old as I am. I'd be dead without her," I say, fiercely. She told me often enough what we did to keep me safe. "Dead. The monsters would have gotten me a long time ago. And now you took me out of the house so I'm probably going to die soon."
At that I start crying. I'll die and everything we did will be for nothing.
"So?" He asks, finding food in the counsel to eat. That's how seriously he took my little speech.
"So I'll die."
"Which isn't your problem anymore is it? What's the point in spending your life locked up in a house eating, rabbit food all day? You might as well have a good time. Monster attacks you, and you either win, or you don't have to worry about anything anymore. Here," he tosses a pack of cookies at me.
"Really?" I ask. I am only allowed sweets on the weekends.
"Really open it and hand it to me. I'm driving."
I tear it open and hand it back to him.
"You never practiced magic before?"
"No, that draws the monsters," I say.
"It also helps when being attacked by monsters."
"Will you show me?" I ask, hopefully.
"No."
"I mean like if we get attacked by monsters, can you like—tell me how to do it?" I ask. I have always wanted to know how.
"No."
I glare at him a little.
He ignores me completely, humming the song on the radio, and eating the packet of cookies.
I look out at the grey day. We're racing along the highway now. It's very different looking out than looking in at a movie. It nearly turns my stomach.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Port Angeles, that's where your father lives. Whole Forrest clan lives in fact. They're pains and a half, beautiful part of the country. You'll enjoy dying there."
"You lived," I say, softly.
"Yes, I'm very different, along with being smarter than you I'm incredibly talented. You will probably die."
I glare at him. This does not affect him at all. He turns up the music a little more.
"I'm not allowed to listen to rock and roll," I say.
"You like it?"
"Yeah," I nod.
He nods a little, turning it up.
"What is it called?"
" 'Rock you like a hurricane'."
We ride in silence. He did say this car ride would take hours. What am I supposed to do for hours?
He slams the brakes. The car spins and I smack my head against the dashboard, jerking against the seatbelt violently. West struggles to control the spin, narrowly avoiding other cars before finally skidding off the road.
I sit up, painfully, looking for the cause of the crash.
Rising up, in the middle of the road, is a firey, winged demon. Ash and red light drift from it as it brandishes a trident.
"Stay in the car," West says, climbing out.
"No, it's after me too, I can fight," I say, climbing out.
"Stay in the goddamn car," he snarls, taking off his duster, and jacket.
"Well do you have weapons? We need weapons? I think weapons would help this situation," I say.
"I have a weapon."
"What?" I ask, watching as he takes off his vest and then shirt, tossing them all in the car.
"Me."
I am going to argue more, but he draws a knife from his belt, and runs towards the monster. His back and chest, now bare, are laced with scars, from countless monsters. Years of surviving fights like this. I guess he knows what he's doing?
The monster slams him into the ground, glowing hands on his chest as it screams. Warlock blood is even more potent than whatever we normally smell like. And by now I'm sure West is bleeding.
He raises both hands, glowing red hot with magic. The magic flows through his dagger and he casts a spell, narrowly stopping the creature from biting his head off.
I duck, cowering behind the car. He did tell me to stay.
Ash and the demon grapple. It leaps into the air again and tries to slash him with its tail. He ducks, casting again from the tip of his dagger. Warlocks usually have a wand? That's what I read online. He's apparently using his dagger in lieu of a wand. I wonder if it's magic.
The demon attacks again, this time they both tumble to the ground. I straight up, wondering if it got him and if so if I should be upset. Driving didn't look hard. I could probably make it home.
Then, in a fire cloud, the demon explodes. West struggles up, driving the dagger through the thing's heart as it strains trying to bite his head. Through the haze of smoke I see it finally disintegrate.
West stands, not even breathing heavily. He puts the dagger back in his belt and walks toward me.
I'm standing there watching. Everyone is standing there watching, all the other cars on the highway got stopped too. And they got to video one of the most famous members of the Hunt in action. They're having a good time.
"Get in the car," West says, strolling back, like this is a completely normal occurrence for him. I'm still trembling from the sight of the thing.
"Are you all right?" I ask, because it seems impolite not to.
"Yes, get in the car," he says, putting his clothes back on.
"Why did you take your clothes off?"
"Because that's a $200 shirt, get in the car."
"Does this happen often?"
"Yes, it's the life of a warlock, get used to it and get in the car."
"Why do you wear $200 shirts if this happens often?"
"Because I'm civilized. Get in the car."
I get in the car.
"You ask another question—that doesn't relate to the music, in the next thirty minutes and I'll throw whatever is in that damn suitcase into the sound," West says, climbing back in, adjusting his shirt.
I nod, quietly. We're pulling into the cue of cars trying to get back on the highway and moving. The song has changed but I don't want to test the question thing I also don't really like this one. They are cursing in it. That's probably why I'm not supposed to listen to rock and roll.
It starts raining as we get on the highway. The windshield wipers beat out of cadence with the music. Ash checks his face for blood. He has a cut above one eye but it's mostly stopped bleeding.
"When are you going to tell my dad we're coming?" I ask.
"Later. He probably doesn't remember you exist so I have to do it gently. We'll pull over and get dinner."
"I can only have four hundred more calories today. So it probably has to be salad."
"I need you to get through your tiny little idiot teenage brain how very little I care about your mother's crackpot scheme to keep you alive," West scoffs.
I glare and say nothing. He might still throw my stuff out of the back of the car.
"But you're going to tell him?"
"Yes. Gently. When we get to a rest stop."