Its never always magical

Chapter 1-Its never always magical

(A/N) Hola :) so I've started this story. This time it's finished because you are reading the authors note and that's the last thing I wrote so yeah I hope you enjoy it and I'm not going to take this one down (like I did earlier). please comment on things I can improve or even things you like. I am open to criticism so don't be stingy with it :) I like to know what my readers want me to write not just my thoughts. Also I might start dedicating chapters to the best commenters if I have enough so other than that enjoy :)

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"Ah, you have got to be kidding me." I groan as I hold the painting up to the light. "I can never get the same colour twice." I said to Pringle the yellow tabby cat lounging on the bay window seat.

I squeeze a blob of white paint onto my palette and start mixing it with the light blue number I had already mixed and apply the fresh paint to the patchy sky.

Giving up I set the painting down frustratedly. I rise to my feet grabbing the cup filled with paint riddled water. I migrate to the kitchen and dump the murky contents into the sink. Once I am fully convinced all the paint has washed out of the brush bristles I shove them into the painting cupboard along with the cleaned palette and paints. I fold up the damp newspaper, slide my feet into my red ballet flats and head down the stone path to the rubbish can.

I slide the paper into the can as a black van squeals around the corner. The tires screech and smoke as the driver slams on the breaks.

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"Are you going to get us what we want Charlie?" Theo asks.

"No." I spit at him. Theo reaches up to wipe his cheek with the cuff if his black jacket.

"That's what you always say but you always deliver." He continues. "If you don't get me my prize this time then you will face the wrath of the holy one." He grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look into his piercing grey eyes.

"The holy one can't touch me." I growl.

Anger flashes across his eyes tinting his cheeks a light shade of crimson. He reaches around me and shoves the door open.

"I will." He says "get My prize." With that he shoves me out of the van sending me sprawling onto the pavement. The folds of my wings dig into my shoulder blades on impact exhausting my lungs of air. I double over in pain choking on nothing in a futile attempt to find oxygen.

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Flabbergasted, I drop the lid back on the rubbish can. Do I help him? Yes of course I help him he's in pain! I tell the little nagging voice in my head. But he could be dangerous. Shut up Amelia. just help him.

With my mind made up I hurry over to the boys curled up body.

"A-are you-" I start to say. "Who are you?" The boy lifts his dark blue gaze to me in half a grimace. "Can we go inside." He says. His breath comes in short shallow bursts but his eyes never waver. I incline my head in a half nod before offering him my hand. He takes it without a second glance. Well done Amelia you haven't hurt the guy yet.

"I should be fine to walk to the door." He grimaces. I don't feel like supporting 68 extra kg's so I don't protest.

How wrong I was.

After taking one step he half collapses before I catch him. I sigh and wrap his left arm around my shoulders taking the majority of his weight. We stumble to in the front door together and I steer him over to the bay window in the art room.

I stand in front of him as he checks his ankle presumably for broken bones. Once he seems satisfied his hands move to the hem of his long sleeve tee. As If suddenly remembering I'm there he stares at me thoughtfully. Take a picture it lasts longer. Amelia shut up and don't say that out loud. It's totally cheesy.