Charlotte

Chapter Three

Sneaking out was easier than I thought it'd be. Jesse bribed the guardian at the gate to let us out and not say a word to anyone about it...I guess daddy's money did come in handy sometimes. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Christian escorted us to the carpark where Jesse had pulled up. He'd kissed Lissa and complained for ten minutes about him not being allowed to go. He even tried to make Lissa stay so he could go in her stead, claiming that his fire would be useful if something happened, and she would be safe. Lissa had put her foot down and he had to stay. 

He threw a few threats Jesse's way, and closed the door behind me as I crawled in next to Lissa, who was sitting next to Mason. Rose was up front next to Jesse. Christian watched us leave, an unreadable look on his handsome face. I felt bad for him, because I knew how badly he wanted to be there for not just Lissa, but me too. I was big sister, but our relationship sometimes felt like he was the older one, watching out for me. 

Missoula, the town we were going to, was a two-hour drive. It's where we had gone to get our dresses for the Thanksgiving dance. Jesse had a lead foot, though, and we made it in an hour and a half. The snow was steadily falling again, adding to the already shin high snowbanks that piled up in people's yards and along the street. The sun was covered by thick, grey snow clouds, so Lissa didn't have to take her parasol out to protect her sensitive skin from the UV rays. Rose had some printed directions in her hands and pointed to the street up on the left. 

"Turn on Youth dr.  and it's the second house from the end of the block." 

Jesse did as he was told, pulled up alongside the sidewalk. The house we had pulled up to was smaller than all the others we had passed by. It was single story, with off white paneling and brown trim. The windows were small, and the shape of the house was a boring rectangle. There was an old, rusty green chevy parked in the driveway, but it was buried in snow. To make matters worse, the walkway wasn't shoveled or salted, so we were all (except Jesse because he was staying in the car) fighting to stay on our feet as we slipped on the wet snow. 

I walked up the short two steps that led to the small porch and rapped firmly on the wood door. There was a bang of something hitting the floor, and then the door creaked open a minute later. "Who are you?" A man's voice said from behind the tiny window. 

"Uh, Mr. Bradshaw? Me and my friends...we read an article you wrote about Aasimar's and we had some questions."

"Go away." They rebuked, gruffly.  

"Please," I stressed. "You're probably the only person in this country who knows what I've been through." 

There was a moment of silence, and I was just about to cut my losses and turn away. My neck stung and I rubbed it as I started to back off the porch. But then the door opened, just a crack. "Who are you?" He asked again. I could see one hazel eye peeking out at me from the darkness within. 

"My name is Charlotte Monet," I respond. "And I just really need to talk to someone about what's happening to me." 

He looked me up and down, then behind me at Rose and Mason who stood next to each other, various obviously playing bodyguard. Lissa was between me and them, her hands nervously ringing together. Surprisingly. Beau opened the door wider and stepped aside. I sighed in relief and stepped past him, making sure to use my manners. 

Inside was warm, and a violent shiver crashed over me at the temperature change, and my fingers started to tingle. The inside of the house was cluttered. Overflowing boxes were piled floor to ceiling, and there were paths leading to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. It was like an episode of hoarders. At least it didn't smell like dead cat and feces. Beau led us to his 'living room' that was actually just a storage unit with a loveseat piled high with folded clothes.