dance with the devil ✧ DAMON SALVATORE

chapter fourteen

Jordan wakes up with her blanket propped into a ball and her left foot hanging outside of the hotel bed. The first thing Jordan did when she escaped the buzzing airport, was book a hotel. The hotel is nice. It includes breakfast, which Jordan has missed considering it is 2PM already, and the room is fairly clean. Not that Jordan plans on staying inside the whole day.

Last night her dreams were plagued with the name of a café: 'Sandwi(t)ch'. She doesn't know why, and most of the time such things don't bother her, but with all the strange dreams she has had the last couple of weeks, Jordan can't be so sure anymore. She grabs her phone and googles the name. She raises her eyebrow, Jordan was certain it didn't exist.

'Sandwi(t)ch. Famous for their special and mysterious sandwiches, which will be sure to brighten up your day.'

Guess Jordan knows where she will be eating her lunch, or rather, her breakfast. She slips into Damon's shirt, and she stands there for a minute, wondering what her friends are up to, and if they are doing okay. She hopes so.

Jordan hopes all she can, but a little voice in the back of her head keeps on nagging; telling her that her family is dead and it is all her fault, because she ran off. Again. But I told them. I told them I was going away.

It doesn't matter. The words don't reach her. All that reaches her is the guilt, and it finally sinks in. Jordan isn't a fighter. She is a runner. She is afraid. So afraid that is shakes her to her core. Jordan's breathing picks up, and it doesn't take long before she feels like she is suffocating. The flower patterned walls are closing in on her; her vision blurs until all she can see is a bunch of colours overlapping one another.

Jordan grabs some money off the wooden nightstand before she escapes the room. She runs down the flight of stairs; disappears through the whitewashed double doors of the hotel. The fresh wave of air hits her like a punch in the face, and Jordan is able to calm herself. The wind blows her hair around, and she can see her reflection gazing at her in the window of a car.

She rips her eyes away from her reflection, no longer able to stand the fright swirling in her eyes. A flickering of red neon colour from across the street catches her vision. Sandwi(t)ch, it spells.

Jordan chuckles at the bitter irony of it, and she wonders if the owners of the café know that the legends about witches are true. Probably not, she didn't even know about them until a few weeks ago. Before she can grasp the idea, she is running towards the café, not caring about cars, bicycles, or trespassers.

The café looks deserted, but cosy nonetheless. From the outside, the café fits right into the modern theme of the street, but when Jordan pushes open the door, making a bell ring, it seems like she has entered a whole other world. Candles and flowers decorate every table and bells and crystals and little lights are hanging from the ceiling. Jordan feels as if she has just walked through the closet and arrive at Narnia. She stares in wonder at the photos that stick to the wall. The photos are breathtakingly beautiful. Flowers, castles, flowing rivers, animals, places she doesn't even now exist are printed on the walls.

"Do you like them? I've made them myself when I was travelling a few years back." A woman behind the counter speaks up and she smiles at how consumed Jordan is.

"They're amazing," Jordan breathes.

"Thank you. Would you like a drink, hon?"

Jordan nods her head absently. "A glass of water please." Jordan takes a seat in the corner of the café. She sinks into the pillows of the sofa, and she wonders if the woman would let her stay here. Compared to the hotel, the hotel is a big pile of garbage, which says a lot, considering the room isn't even that bad.