Hex Marks the Spot

Chapter Six

Don't break a bird's wing and then tell it to fly.
- by Najwa Zebian -

Chapter Six

Forks, Washington, was a dreary and unremarkable little thing. It was overly green, too suburban, and most certainly had an unfortunate case of simple minded fools. Atticus didn't need to read a pamphlet to know this. He simply needed to spend a bit of time with the dead that still lingered as they drove through the outskirts of this insipid little place. The dead didn't fly, so during their flight most had been quiet, but here their voices weren't too loud. Still, the constant mumbling causes a slight ache behind his ears.

How come Nichole had chosen such a dull place to live this life out in? Couldn't she have picked somewhere closer to their coven of mages? He and his father may have hated the blasted cat who had bonded itself to her but that didn't mean she had to move states away.

Tossing such questions to the back of his mind Atticus had the door of his father's rental car thrown open before Kane had the vehicle in park. His smile grew of its own accord as he jogged towards the door. His body practically vibrating with giddiness at their soon to be reunion.

The closer he got to the door the quieter the voices in his head became, another of the many reasons he enjoyed her presence.

It had been years since Atticus, or Kane, had seen Nichole. Neither had ever visited, upon her request of course, that and the anticipation plus the noises of the equine yards away had Atticus's fist practically pounding against the dark door. From the corner of his eye a porch light hung forgotten and covered in cobwebs, but it vanished as the door slowly opened and a familiar blank face was revealed. The luggage he had been dragging along was left forgotten at the doorway as Atticus embraced Nichole in a tight hug. If she wouldn't have groaned out in discomfort Atticus would have most certainly plucked the girl from the floor and spun the two of them in a circle.

Shoving his face into her thick, curly, mane of hair Atticus mumbled his welcoming. Only to retract his face quickly as an unchecked body odor assaulted and burned the inner walls of his nose.

"I still don't understand why you had to come out?" Nichole worked on prying herself from his clingy grasp, while addressing an approaching Kane. "It can't be due to the proximity of the Cullen family."

Atticus rolled his eyes before pulling away and stationing his hands on his hips. "Nope. No. No way. Family protects each other, especially from vermin! Do you know what an inhuman could do to yo-" Atticus had been so ecstatic to finally be reunited with his personal little Debby Downer that he hadn't taken into consideration the fact that she had been in close quarters with inhumans. His eyes raked over the small cuts, dark bruises, and pearly white bandages painting her pasty skin. Had she been attacked? What happened to her arm? Why was she favoring one ankle over the other?

'Who did this?' The old wooden beams in the house groaned as Atticus's emotions got the better of him, and somewhere flames leaped out from their fireplace. A smack from his father's cane had him gathering back the reins of his abilities.

A silence filled the space they occupied as green orbs met bloodshot grey for the first time in a long while.

"Healing Goo! I'll get right on it!" Atticus's frown turned upside down, and with a chirp the ancestral medium twisted on his heels and vanished back through the doorway and towards the car. Only to linger and add to a rancid smelling Nichole. "Clean yourself as it gets prepared and I unpack a few things!"

Nichole stood still. She was not in the least motivated to shower or bathe, even after being insulted so cheerfully by the clingy mage. Yet, after a meaningful look from Kane and a comment about having to make a call Nichole took the hint and began her way towards her personal bathroom. This was one of many prime examples of why she disliked having people over.