Different

Chapter 9

Bishaw was agitated. Antonio, his client who was being tried for murder, reportedly escaped. We spent the entire morning making phone calls. Portland Police Bureau couldn't give us a lead. They said he was just gone from his cell. No signs of struggle. Of course, we went there and were escorted to his cell. The police were right. There was nothing, not even a scratch.

Bishaw was furious. He blamed the police on duty for negligence. The surveillance cameras showed no one exiting the establishment. Without any sign of his escape, they were at lost. Bishaw cursed. Inside his car he swore he was dropping him as a client.

I, however, felt suspicion. The incident was out of the ordinary. I was thinking about the whole thing the entire afternoon so much that I wasn't able to focus in my classes. In my room I kept thinking about it. There was this compulsion to know what took place. It took over me. My old apartment whirled before me.

When I opened my eyes, I was in what had to be Antonio's cell. It was dark and quiet. The guard on duty was asleep. My curiosity brought me there to understand. The craving to know what truly happened was too compelling to be ignored. For ordinary mortals escaping a prison cell may be impossible. But not for other types of humans.

"Mystery once, mystery no more." I was improvising a spell. "Let answers come from a place unknown, magic cast in this cell to me be shown." Energy surged. I knew it. Someone used magic in this place.

Shadowy figures began to form around me. My spell couldn't identify them, but it answered my questions. Someone took Antonio out. The question was, why?

I teleported myself to Bishaw's office. This case used to be insignificant to me until this night. I scanned his records. I knew nothing new, but this time the names involved, especially that of the victim, became more important. I had to talk to the family of his victim (Susan Stewart).

The following day I skipped classes to go to her residence. Her parents, both in their fifties, were welcoming. They gave me curious looks that were familiar to me. But I wasn't retreating just because of their offensive glances. The quest to get to the bottom of Antonio's case, despite Bishaw dropping it, was in my system.

There was something peculiarly familiar about their house. Earlier I saw a triquetra hanging by the door. It looked more like an apothecary than a house.

"Can we offer you anything," Mrs. Stewart politely uttered.

"No, thanks. I'm here because I need answers."

"About Susan?" Mr. Stewart sounded disgruntled. "She was asking for it." His wife signaled him to stop.

"I don't understand why you would be interested. I saw you in the court hearing. You're with the suspected murderer." Her tone was serious but surprisingly not accusing or cynical. His husband snorted before resting his back on the chair and appearing disinterested.

"He escaped."

She nodded and inhaled before avoiding my stare. "So I heard this morning."

"Atty. Levin Bishaw already withdrew his services. He doesn't want to further stain his reputation defending a murder suspect who just escaped detention."

"Something tells me your boss isn't why you're here."

"What do you mean?"

"I can see in the way you look at my stuff." She looked around her house. "I know you know what these things are for."

"Mrs. Stewart..." I shook my head.

"You don't have to deny." She grabbed my hand and opened my palm. She examined it, traced the lines with her fingertip. "I knew my daughter wasn't going to be with us too long."