Hex Marks the Spot

Chapter Nine

Out of place.
Sometimes it's believable.
Other times it's just intended to be.

- inspired by D.R. -

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Atticus loved being barefoot, it mattered not where he was, and it was no different in Nichole's cozy little cottage. He could feel the natural energy of the wooden structure tickling at the soles of his feet. It was one of his many strange little quirks, and the coven members back home had grown accustom to him running about barefooted. Every witch and warlock had their own ways of feeling closer to the esse of this world.

For Atticus being barefoot let him feel calm and good. Despite the coolness in the wooden floorboards he could feel the warmth that had gathered throughout many years. There were traces of Nichole as she was now and invisible prints of a few of her past selves engraved into each grain of wood. Just as there was a certain hint of immorality from darker times. Atticus could sense it all through his feet as energy passed in and out. Even the thick angry tension that had been stewing repeatedly before exploding for the past two days was beginning to influence the natural flow of the cottage's esse.

It was what had provoked another of Atticus's oddities. One that usually earned him a few to many annoyed stares. Something hybrid between Leann Rimes song Can't Fight the Moonlight and Smash Mouth's song All Star had been vibrating up through his throat and past pressed lips for a good forty minute. The humming was light and airy, an utter opposite of the energy swelling and detonating between his father and Nichole.

"Do not take that tone with me young lady!"

"Or what? Are you going to tie me down and manipulate me through a curse as well? Or, have I finally pushed that final button and you're gonna dissect and murder me! It wouldn't be the first time a member of your coven has accidentally disposed of an annoying fly. Oh, I know! Maybe you'll finally disown that loyalty you feel towards me!" Nichole hissed, her teeth bared and hands tightly clenched. "I am neither young nor stupid, Kane. There is nothing you hold above me that will change my mind. You can take away the land I live on, the animals I care for, or my only form of magical protection. It doesn't matter because the ending result will always be the same." She didn't pause and the tone she had taken didn't falter. "I will die, and nothing can change that. No high school or social life can save me from my fate, not even your coven's magic!"

"You can't keep walking out, Nichole. Pushing people away and distancing yourself emotionally is not health!"

"My apologies, I didn't realize I needed your permission!"

A wiggle of Atticus's pointer finger and a tingle at the base of his neck had the front door popping open. Then, with the prying of his toes the door swung open and a foggy morning welcomed him with a cloak of heavy humidity.

"I'm only trying to help!"

"I can tell, and if you haven't figured out yet it's highly irritating and annoying! I have no interest in making friends with children! So, just stop."

His body spazzed and jerked gently as Atticus stepped outside. The combination of the climate change and dead tugging at the far outer edges of his mind had him twitching, and unintentionally slamming the door shut behind him. Even though it had been an accidental slip and momentary loss of control dull pain began to sprout from behind his temples.

Atticus stood outside the cottage till his vision lost its bright white dotting, and he could register the chilly humidity kissing at his exposed skin and dampening the hair beneath his beanie. Then, and only then, did he start to walk away from the small home and towards the woodlands beyond. The further he traveled the more pronounced the voices in his mind became. Mossy green eyes widened and his head tilted to the side as his attention was caught by a repeating cycle of a soul complaining about pollen and tweeting tweety birds.