Catastrophic

Chapter Twelve

    “Well, if you really want to help, you’re going to have to train,” she says, and it hits me that I know her deepest secrets but not her name.

    “What is your name?” I change the subject abruptly, trying to answer my important question. If I were to be honest, the information she just told me isn’t half as valuable as a name. A name can ruin a person’s life, it can stop your heart. It can also fill you with joy and comfort, and can grant you knowledge that you cannot get any other way. A name is pretty darn important, and if I’ll be spending a lot of time with her, it wouldn’t hurt to know.

    “I suppose I’ll tell you, for you know mine,” she wonders out loud. Her accent is even more persistent and obvious when she’s not revealing her deepest secrets, and I determine that she has a slight British accent. Interesting. “Ok. Since you asked, my name is Bryony. Bryony Richardson. Can we talk business now?” She looks a little unnerved from my question, and I can tell she isn’t used to interacting to people, more along the lines of watching people. I can relate to her on the observing part, but I can talk to people. Everyone’s made from different stars I guess.

    Bryony stands up and unlocks the door, holding it open for me to go first. For a minute, I pretend I’m a princess and that everything is alright. My prince will come, a good prince, and we’ll live happily ever after. Luckily for me, this prince won’t be a backstabbing, two-faced liar who happens to be undeniably handsome beyond hope and is impossible to resist. Luckily for me, this prince isn’t fawning over the evil queen or plotting to kill off an entire population unknowingly. Luckily this prince isn’t stupid Ryan.

    “I’ve got a place five minutes away from here. We can train there,” Bryony instructs as we head to the exit.

    “What exactly does training require?” I inquire.

    She’s silent for a moment as we glide across the floor side-by-side, and I can tell she’s reviewing everything she had planned for me. “You my friend, must have a lot of willpower,” she explains and leaves at that. I have mixed feelings about this training, and whether or not it will include physical injuries.

    True to her word, the walk to her house is five minutes, but it isn’t pleasant in the least. Rain has decided to make it breakthrough from the clouds and hundreds upon hundreds escapees hit wandering people, especially Bryony and I, or so it seems to me at least. Something isn’t right about this storm. There’s too much rain, so much it seems like a blanket has been permanently put over my vision. The thunder is too loud, as noisy as 1,000 drums being played right next to your ear, and the lightning is too constant and too bright.

This is not a normal storm, and without any word spoken, we start to book it to Bryony’s house in hopes of not getting killed. I’ve seen hurricanes worse than this storm, and I know this has something to do with the Storm Society and failure. Oh, and a lot of evil.

“This is Emilia’s doing. Already, she’s swooned them enough that they’re going out of control. They’ve liked the possibilities evil offers.  I’m afraid that the Honey’s plan to obliterate the Storm Society will also take down Earth with them,” she mutters out loud. I have a feeling that she’s talking at a normal volume, but with the deafening thunder happening every ten seconds, it has shrunk her voice down to a whisper. “This wasn’t in Wenona’s notes though,” she continues. “Is this Emilia’s idea?”

I don’t know is I’m supposed to answer that, so I keep silent. We eventually reach Bryony’s house, a cute, baby blue, 2-story house in a quaint neighborhood. As soon as we enter, Bryony runs to the old-fashioned fireplace and starts a fire. “It’s a good thing I stocked up on wood yesterday, or we’d be freezing our butts off. Unfortunately, this place doesn’t come with heat,” she says as she warm her hands up. She straightens a little, and tells me to make myself at home as she runs to the kitchen. I sit down on a chair close to the flames and begin the process to make me not shiver.