The Witches on BellaRow Street

30. More Tea, More Shade

Protect your Energy, Power, and Time.
*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ:*

"Fay? Aunt BeeBee? Mister-- Is anyone home?"

It's officially 'snitch on myself' night, a.k.a, 'tell my sisters the truth before everything backfires and blow up in my face' night. And I'm supposed to be having a heart-to-heart, plotting my next moves, and finally whispering sweet nothings in Zion's ear over the phone, but here I am, creeping through the house with Junie.

That's right--we're creeping. And Junie and I, aren't creepin' like our favorite hit song, sung by a 90's r&b girl group. Nope.

We are creeping-creeping.

I'm talking about eyes low, bodies on glow, and moving so slow.

We're doing a poor job at it too, by stepping over something flimsy, followed by us bumping into the TV, but in our defense, it's dark, the lights are out, and we can barely see anything.

"Yanni, you go first," whispers Junie, pushing my arm in the process.

Really? And then what? I'm supposed to yell hello five-hundred times until someone jumps out and kills me. No. I've seen enough horror movies to know that the person going first--loses. Or is it the other way around? Either way, I'll pass. Instead, I suggest the next best thing to do.

"Junie, you have fire magic," I mumble, not falling for her tactics.

"You're so petty... I bet you're like that with Zion huh," Junie replies while lifting her hands, swirling them, creating a fiery red stream of light, flowing through her fingers.

I'm not validating her comment with a response.

When her soul magic illuminates our family room, we see Faylayee's wedding stuff scattered across the couch, Mister Purr's ring bearer outfit, and fake shimmering gold and lilac flowers on the floor.

On the left, we spot a mini bulletin board on a stand, full of newspaper clippings, sticky notes, the photo-stalkers' pictures, and pinned documents, which I assume belongs to Aunt BeeBee.

To sum up the scene: Faylayee and Aunt BeeBee have been busy all day, but where are they now? The prickly hairs on the back of my neck move across my skin as my worse fears surface to the front of my mind. Junie locks arms with me for support.

"Kitchen, next," whispers Junie.

We tip-toe our way up to the kitchen, taking our time, making sure we don't bump into anything else. Everything is eerily quiet like all the noise has been sucked out of the room, except for a scratching sound coming from our sun porch. There's also a sizzling noise coming from the gas-lit stove. Wait, someone left it on?

A crippling feeling, traveling from my feet, and up to my hands, forces me to think of the most logical thing ever--turn on the lights. And judging by the digital clock on the microwave, the electricity is still on, so someone must've flickered off the lights on purpose. But who?

As I reach over, ready to light up the kitchen, a hot firm grip, grabs my face, covering my mouth and nose, dragging me back out of the kitchen. Genuine panic consumes me, suffocating me, and controlling me as I reach out for Junie, who's also being yanked out of the kitchen. We're at a disadvantage, bound, and trap by someone overpowering us.

Junie tries using her magic, but it blows away like a candle, evaporating in the air.

When all hope seems lost that certain someone, covering my face, loosens their hold, mumbling, "Shhhh..."