Chapter 3

When I reached my house, there was a car, the one sort that announces the doom of the guilty, the police car, with two men, standing impatiently on the doorstep, shifting impatiently from side to side. The only thing : I wasn't guilty, first thing. Second, why did I think they came here to accuse ? They might just be gathering information. Wasn't it their job to figure out who had murdered ? Sure it was. And wasn't it them too that needed to find out a perpetrator ? Yes it was. And hadn't they seen a girl, just too innocent looking hoping by the house in the morning, just checking it out ? They had. So it led them to think that she was related to this house, to this place, somehow, some way, and it was their job to figure it out�"the relationship. So here I was, coming home, and here they were, dutfully doing their job. Why did I feel so guilty ? Did they always make people feel like that, guilty ? Anyone with them at their door would have quickly been reviewing their life, any mistakes that might lead up to this. And I had been on the scenary of the crime the night before, did they know that ? No, if everything had changed, if the house wasn't the same, if it wasn't empty, there should be no trace of me, should there ? That however, was not so, I felt it. Something was knitting against me. What ?

' You live here, miss ?'

' Sure I do, and for once, didn't forget my key,' I casually took it out and stuck it in the lock and their eyes followed my every movement.

' You usually forget your key ?'

' Most of the time, yeah. Small memory you know,' I cocked my head up at him, the one who was talking. He didn't look to old, maybe near his early thirties, chestnut hair under the cap, pale green eyes, mocking smile. I didn't like him.

' No I don't know actually. Where do you usually go when you don't have your keys ?' The garden of the Dead House. I couldn't say that, so I said the first thing that came to mind.

' The Pangors' house.' Why oh why did you ever mention the keys.

' You know them ?' I flung the door open and turned to face both of them.

' Who doesn't know them after the news this morning ?' I tried to look as fit as could be for such a sentence. ' Is that why you're here, because they're dead ?'

' Yes. But you don't seem much affected by that.' I didn't reply to that, and left the door wide open, and invitation for them to walk in.

' I'll be back in a minute,' I said, and taking the stairs two by two, I went up to my bedroom and let my bagpack fall to the floor and went to the bathroom, and there waited and listened for the sounds of hushed voices down the stairs.

' ...can't...knows them...you'd think...'

' ...no, you don't...she knows something...' I flushed the toilet and jogged back down to the two policemen.

' So what do you want to know ?'

' About the Pangors actually.'

' I'd have guessed. Shoot.'

' How long have you known them ?'

' Since they're here.'

' They've always been here.'

' Well that answers your question, no ?' They both looked at each other. I didn't miss that, but pretended not to see.

' Alright. From what we've understood, you were close to them ?' Oh Gosh, no, no, no. I don't know them, they've been here for only one freakin' day !

' Relatively close. More to the boy.' That sounded good. Curtis had said that I was close to their son.

' The boy ?'

' Yeah,' I called over my shoulder, going to the kitchen by intuition. I needed something to help me, and fast, to get me out of this mess, of this nightmare. And then I fell on it, a picture of me and a little boy sitting in the grass and looking up at the camera. I flicked it over to the backside and stared at the name. Ian Pangor.

' Ian,' I said affirmatively, coming back with a glass of water. I then remembered manners. ' I'm sorry, would you like something to drink ?' They looked surprised by the question, as if no one had ever dared to.

' No, thanks,' they both said. The one I didn't like was staring me down. What you looking at ? I wanted to throw at him. I just waited instead.

' So, tell us about Ian.' On that split moment, I had the vision of a boy, playing video games all day long, sitting eating junky food, with a weird nasal laugh. I wanted to laugh so much out loud, and I tried really hard not to smile and to remain serious.

' Oh Ian ? Typical american boy, video games and all. Junk food, sitting around all day. He got a bit more jerky of late. Before, he used to be cooler. We'd go out for walks together and talk a lot...' I was trying to picture me in a crush with that boy. Ew. All I could see was this boy, completely opposite of me, talking his mouthful and trying to get his hands on me, and I shuddered. ' Hard to think he's dead now,' I said my voice thick. Whoa. Was I that good an actress ? I could actually tug my tearducts. Now they got embarrassed and didn't know what to say. ' Sure he was a jerk, but nobody deserves to die. He's really not alive ?' I sniffed, hardly daring to look up, afraid I might lose it.

' I'm afraid not, miss.'

There was some silence, and I felt like an idiot, standing there and crying over someone I did not know at all.

' Right,' I started again, after gathering myself together and blowing my nose. ' Anything else you'd like to know ?' I looked up as I spoke.

' Just one more thing. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm him and his family ?'

I don't know if it was just me, but when he glared at me, because he felt he was doing so, I could clearly read his eyes. What reason did you have to kill them ?

When the police men were gone, I slumped down in an armchair in the living room and wiped away the sweat that pearled on my forehead. Trouble, yes. This kind of trouble ? No. That was a close shot. I just hoped now that if they analyzed Ian's nutrition, it wouldn't have been green vegetables or maybe the killer had made him eat some before he died...Silly me, seriously. I didn't call my foster father about that, no need to put him off just two days before I left. Besides I didn't want to talk about people I didn't know. But the picture, in the kitchen, the picture. I sprinted to the kitchen and lifted everything around the corner. I'd left it right into view, it had been right into view. Now it was completely gone. Nothing. I wanted to claw at whatever invisible being shadowed my footsteps. I knew, however, that it wasn't 'whatever invisible being' is was her.

' Please, for gosh's sake, why on earth do witches have to play around with me ?' Witches. The word was so strange coming out of my mouth, as though it might have been a sweet or a piece of chocolate melting away on my tongue. Witches. Did they really exist then ? Was the book not lying ? It seemed too pure coincidence for me to find this book in the house that had shifted in the night, for the police to come right on my doorstep and not anyone else's. Was I really guilty ? All I could honestly say to them if they asked the question outright, was that I'd broken in during the previous night �" which in any case was the night of the murder �" and stolen a book. What a lame thing. They'd be thinking I was trying to admit to murder easy. So many speculations, and not so many truths. And I hated not knowing. So I took out my old sneakers, the one I'd used the night before �" I hadn't thought that it was pretty foolish to do that; I would have done better getting rid of them in a trashcan or something. I got them on after I'd changed out of my jeans and was in sweatpants, pulling a much too large sweater on too. I tied my hair tightly into a pony tail, and went out my backdoor, not bothering to lock it. I walked slowly around the bushes, that gave onto the property of the Dead House (or Pangors'). Then I stopped dead in my tracks. Of course ! If the house looked so neat and clean and lively, the lawn, and the garden too ! There was no longer the big trees that had been there before, nor the bushes grown out of hand. Everything was perfect, this was a perfect family and family house. Ian must have eaten vegetables for his last dinner... There was still a car parked up front, I could see the hood. Would there be anyone near the back of the house to see me pass ? I decided to wait. Wait one minute, ten minutes, half an hour, two hours, until finally, the car moved towards the road. Did they leave the scene of the crime behind, without guarding it ? Had they cleaned it all up ? I certainly knew that they had taken the bodies to the lab, but what about the rest ? I took my chances and silently jogged to the back glass door and peered inside. There was no one in the room I was staring at. I thought twice before going though. After all, it was where for the first time...I'd seen the witch, and there had been blood, yes blood behind the old windows of the Dead House. And the dirt I'd held up and squeezed, blood.

' Oh hell, oh no, bloody impossible,' I sunk down to sit against the wall in the grass, breathed in and out slowly. Then, out of anger, despair, like an animal who is trapped and cannot get out, I did the worst thing I could possibly have done at the moment. I banged the glass door with my fist, luckily, low enough so that the dent would be nearly impossible to see. I heard shuffling inside.

' Oh Scott, no,' I murmured looking on ahead, the tears coming up to my eyes. I was done for good. Someone opened the glass door and I looked up. It was one of the policemen, the nice looking one who was staring down at me. So they have left someone behind. At the same time, I couldn't help the tears that ran down my cheeks and the sobs that shook my chest. Was I going to be executed because of something I hadn't done ? He sat down next to me instead of saying, well spatting out his accusation.

' Hey now,' he said, putting an arm around my shoulders. ' I promise we'll find the darn people who did this. And they'll get punished for sure.' He tried to be comforting. The sobs calmed down, now it was only tears. ' Used to come down here and sit with Ian ?' I nodded once, afraid I might crack up a laugh now that the worst was over if I opened my mouth. ' You know, I used to have a girl, a while back, some ten years ago. So beautiful and perfect. Not that we ever fought. Believe me, we had our share of fights. And then, one day, she disappeared, left no trace except some blood and there was a note ' You'll never see your dear Velna, ever again.' We never found them. That's why I joined the police. I always think that somehow, I can find her.' I hoped so for you too.

' Do you believe in magic ?' I blurted out. What was I thinking ?! But I couldn't help myself, now that word took up half my mind, and the other half was taken by witches. He didn't reply, but his eyes were suddenly curious and cautious on my face. ' Well I wish I could believe in it. Not only believe in it, but that it might exist,' I said, staring at the neat hedge. ' Maybe things could be turned around, and Ian would be back here now, alive,' I tried to be as longing as I could be.

' You like that boy ?' he asked sympathetically.

' Yes, no matter what he turned out to be like,' that seemed reasonable for a girl passionately in love. Was I supposed to be passionatly in love ? The picture, the picture...

' I'm really sorry about that.' There was a moment's silence and then he said in a tone I could not quite understand : ' If magic existed, our world would be a strange kind of mess.' Then he got up to his feet and pulled me up by one hand. ' Better get on home. You don't want to linger in this sort of place. If anyone tries to come here, I'm sure you can see them from your window, so you just come round in the morning before school and tell me if something's been there, okay ?'

' Sure,' I said, ' I'll do that. Keep a watch and feel of help.' He smiled a bit.

' Well, have a good evening young lady.'

' Thank you sir. You too,' I walked away and hoped the fence with ease. I turned back to him, and he looked more worried than anything as he went back inside.

Nightfall, I thought, sitting in my room, getting my suitcase ready for in two days. I'd have the whole of tomorrow free, wasn't that great ? For a girl like me, with so many things to solve, that was more than great. I checked the last drawers and again found my book, with its splotch of red. How to get the red out ? I just left it as it was. I'd been gone in a bit more than twenty four hours from now, I could afford leaving it like that. I sat on my bed, against the decorative cushions and opened it at the first chapter. First, I took in the drawings. There was a woman, burning at the stake and the scene looked so alive it was frightening. It was a woman, around twenty years old, with short fair hair, and tortured blue eyes. Her face looked so young and rosy and quite out of place so hurt and pained. I read the writing underneath. Joan of Arc. I would have sworn then, that her eyes twitched to stare at me and went back to their original posture before I had enough time to meet her gaze. What was this book ? Then I began reading the first chapter.

Chapter 1 : Dark Forces

What are Dark Forces ?

First of all, you should know what are the Dark Forces. It is essential after your three year training for it will always be asked, whether indirectly or directly on your final exam, and probably on other exams before then �" the exams will be further developped at the end of this book. Now Dark Forces, evidently, come from the Dark. The founder of these forces in the Devil. In fact, the purest, the actual Dark Forces, are the powers that the Devil detains, the strongest sort. Even the strongest witches could not have as much strength as he. The Devil has been since the dawn of time, and will be forever there, in his dark abyss of the world, unable to do anything unless his servants acts on his behalf. There are many kinds of Dark Forces, strong and weak. One that is used a lot by witches is the art of shifting shapes.

Shifting shapes. The house had gone from an old dead thing to something brand new. What about the people who lived in it ?

Shifting shapes may include the shifting of their own bodies to objects that are closely related to them. It is impossible for a witch to use her magic to shift something that has nothing to do with her, hence the myths about witches turning you to toads is myth and completely untrue.

So there was a connection with that woman and the house, was there ? Yes, I'd noticed that when she was in it, with party clothes but looking so frightening in the air. She was related to this party, to this house, but to the Pangors ?

Another sub-force is the art of reading thoughts. Most witches cannot read thoughts but some may. This is usually a sign of strength, of dominance. The types of other forces will be discussed in the next chapter. What you must, from this part, remember, is that Dark Forces are in exactitude, the purest source of power coming from the Devil.

I skipped further on ahead, at the end of the chapter.

Questions often asked by Students :

Are there Light Forces ?

Yes there are, though never used by witches. Witches only use the Dark Forces, whether they are benevolent (against the Devil) or malevolent (working for the Devil). To do 'good', the benevolent witches have to use the powers of the Dark, which is often streneous for them, because the Devil tries to keep them from using his own powers against him. He usually gives extra strength to the malevolent, which attracts most witches so there are rarely any benevolent witches. The Light Forces are used mainly by witch hunters, and you must beware them, for they are quite deadly facing witches. Never face one alone while in your earlier years of apprenticeship and on the job, even the oldest and experienced witches have some trouble fighting them.The Light Forces are given by a God, who is the source of Light Forces.

So there was witch hunters and witches. There was obviously victims as well. Which was I ?

Author's Note

I hope you enjoy reading this. chapter 4 coming soon ...

Reviews

[PurpleQuartz]

I held my breath during the police officer investigation : )
Like your other chapters, really good! I like it how you have snippets from the book she found, it makes it intriguing!!!!!