Echoes and Shadows

Chapter 2

        Henry turned the key and pulled it out of the ignition, listening to the engine sputter off. He had been sent home, again. This made no sense, he was good with a sword and while his archery skills had much to be desired of, he was alright at it. His mother was just being her overprotective self. He had no right to judge on her parenting right now, but... he really wanted to. A little voice told him he was being a stubborn teenager. Then another told him he was totally justified in his thinking. He sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car 'Stupid teenage brain'.

          He unintentionally slammed the door and stalked to his house, fumbling with his keys for the one that fit the lock. He opened it and let door swing open, blowing his bangs from his eyes. Right, another thing the grandparents were making him get besides a date- a haircut. When was that appointment supposed to be, again?

          A dog started barking in the neighborhood and Henry's eyebrows furrowed. Dogs rarely barked here, they all knew everyone. He peeked around the part of his house that jutted out from the porch. The only thing around the side was a huge tree that had been there when they moved in. The dog was relentless, its barks deviating in volume from a loud RORF to a small whimper, and so he did the reasonable thing. He checked it out. 

        Unnecessarily sliding along the side of the house, he poked his head around the corner and found himself staring directly into a pair of piercing blue eyes. He jumped away, falling onto his back for the second time that day. Then, without another second of thought, the boy tore away from the scene. Henry pushed himself up and looked after him as he jumped the small picket fence. The boy had a leather book under his arm. The young prince's blood froze in his veins. The story book.

        "HEY!" He practically vaulted off of the ground, hopping over the white fence and sprinting down the street. Swinging around the last building on the block, his hand cutting on the brick. The kid's blonde hair never disappeared from sight, weaving in and out of pedestrians walking the sidewalk. Henry's eyes narrowed and started to water from the wind, his cheeks grew raw from the cool day. Several times he yelled at people ahead to stop the thief, but they always turned around far too late or were holding something they found more valuable than his book.

        Athleticism did not run in his family tree and yet the chase consumed him, compelling him to keep running even though his throat was burning.  In fact, he was so distracted that he ran headlong into a man with a large box in his arms. Fabric flew all over the sidewalk, raining down purples, blues and pinks. Some even landed in the road where a car promptly drove over it, leaving a dirty tire mark slashed across it like a wound. 

        "I- I'm so sorry!" Henry began to walk backwards slowly, hoping he could sufficiently apologize without letting the kid get away. That's when he noticed who it was and his face turned scarlet. 

        Jefferson Hatter hadn't bothered with acknowledging the boy's apology and instead went to picking his soiled fabric from the road, muttering to himself. 

        "Henry?" He looked up sharply to see Grace standing by, and, despite his blunder, she was smiling at him.  He relaxed a bit, hoping that she could tell her father to be a little less upset than he probably was. 

        "Oh, Grace, hey... I-" he stole a small glance at his watch, it was 5:54.

        "I was just on my way to meet you," she said. 

        "Yeah," Henry looked over his shoulder, somewhere far down the road, the thief and his book had disappeared. He relaxed a bit, letting out an angry sigh. They both bent down and started to gather fabric in wads. "Grace, listen, I was just-"

        "Following the blonde guy, right?" she interrupted, throwing her ball of fabric into the box. 

        Henry's attention snapped back to her, "You saw him?"

        "Of course, I even saw where he turned," there was a mischievous glint in her eye, hinting at a hidden smile. It was almost as if she was saying "Admit it, Henry, you need me". 

        "Grace, I could kiss you!" Henry's skin became an entirely new shade of vermillion and Jefferson straightened from sorting his spilled fabric, staring the young prince down, "but I won't... because I- I won't-" he lowered his voice, "shut up, Henry." 

        "Dad, I'm going to go with Henry, alright?" 

        Jefferson's eyes narrowed slightly, but finally he nodded his disgruntled approval.

        Her flawless smile was uncovered as she grabbed his hand, "This way." 

        They were suddenly speeding away from the mess, Grace pulling him along. Eventually, Henry let the good feeling of running with her distract him. Then she stopped and he ran into her. They were inside the stables. A couple of horses were nickering to each other, but besides that it was silent. The young prince slowly stepped around Grace, keeping her behind him. In a swift rush of regret, he thought of his sword at home. 

        Moving throughout the stables he found his horse's stall. His eyebrows furrowed, and his horse came to the open door, nuzzling his owner's shoulder. 

        "Hey, boy," Henry whispered to him, "did you see someone run through here?" He rubbed the horse's nose. That's when Grace walked up. She thought he had been acting odd and finally came forward about it. 

        "Henry...?" She asked, gingerly placing a hand on his arm, "Are you alright? Who was he?"

        Henry looked to her and smiled, "Yeah, I'm fine, Grace." 

        "Henry, your hand's bleeding!" She gasped, holding it up so they could both see. He had indeed cut it on the building during the chase, but hadn't noticed it. He watched as the blood slipped down through the cracks in his skin and a stream disappeared into his jacket sleeve.

       'So it is,' he thought, turning his hand over to see if there was any damage on the other side.

        "Come on," Grace continued, "let's go back to your house and clean you up."

        "Sure," he answered, walking ahead of her to the exit, still on the lookout for anyone who could be lurking. She frowned, giving the stables one last sweeping look and, upset with finding nothing, jogged to catch up with him. She just missed one thing. The eyes that were watching from the rafters.