Chapter 3: Thoughts

I watch as my father gets his old truck and i allow myself to cry. Our life was not normal but i know that he tried his best to keep it as normal as he could.

I sometimes felt as though his fathering from a distance attitude was leading to a point where he would say goodbye. Being seventeen i thought he might have let me go to college after my final year in school. All these hopes and dreams i had, now blowing away like leaves in the wind.

Our final hug goodbye was painful. He barely touched me and kept as much distance from me as he could. We have never been close and i really didn't expect much from him but in that moment i needed more. I needed him to acknowledge that he was sad that he was leaving me. His only daughter. Who lost her mother before she was born.

As the tears run down my face, the truck engine starts and i feel suddenly at ease as if all my hurt and pain has disappeared. I feel a warmth and fuzziness and i have to fight the urge to smile as the tears dry in my eyes. My father looks at me with his piercing eyes and he smiles, for once i see the man that he could have been if there was joy and happiness in his life. He seems so at peace as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He turns his head to face the road then drives away.

Once he is gone i become very aware of a presence and it is only then i become aware of Christophe standing behind me. I turn to face him and all of sudden i am hit with overwhelming emotion that was absent not seconds before. Christophe looks me directly in the eyes and says:

"In time you will learn to control your emotions as well as those of the people around you."

He turns to leave and i follow bewildered by his revelation.

"What do you mean?"

He doesn't answer and continues to walk back into my new home. i call after him.

"Stop, please, i deserve some answers. My father deemed you suitable to look after me and yet you tell me nothing!"

I reach out and grab his bicep to stop him and as my hand makes contact i feel a pulse of energy run through me. Christophe does not turn but he inclines his head.

"Never touch me. When you are ready i will tell you. Until then observation is your teaching. Come with me."

As we walk through the halls i try to glimpse into every room surveying what each might hold. Christophe is walking in front of me and i take a chance to glimpse at his back, He looks every inch the 21st century business man with a deep purple shirt that clings to his body accentuating his muscles and his fitted grey trousers reveal what must be strong legs. His hair is dark brown and cut short but long enough to be styled if he chose to. His facial features are sharp and chiseled setting his face harsh with his burning black eyes.

Unlike my own eyes his irises are void of colour. So very unusual in a person something i have never seen before i don't remember noticing that before.

I am momentarily distracted with my thoughts that i don't realize when we stop. I am just quick enough to put the brakes on before i bang into Christophe. Without hesitation Christophe says:

"First lesson Miss Renoit. I can hear your every thought if i choose to and because i know you very little i'll listen in quite often"

I cannot hide the ire in my voice:

"What right do you have to listen in on my own personal thoughts? Better yet how is that even possible. Another question and still no answers!"

"Trust, Miss Renoit, is what i need. Trust goes both ways but mine is a little harder to gain. I will stop listening in when we develop a trust."

"How can i trust you when you don't explain anything to me? I've lived my life as a normal kid doing normal things and you spring all this, this crazy supernatural crap on me and you just expect me to accept it?"

"No i don't expect you to accept it"

His words throw me off guard. He pushes the double doors in front of him and i follow him as he enters what looks to be a large library. On the floor there are boxes and boxes of old books, manuscripts and leather bound diaries.

As i make my way into the room i finger some of the papers and do not see anything remotely familiar. They look as though they are centuries old.

Christophe says nothing but searches the boxes and gathers some books and diaries together. I notice that there is a somewhat tattered antique sofa that has been cleaned and i sit next to the fireplace in the centre of the room. The fire has been used and there are fresh logs sitting next to it.

"Do you read Mr DeVain?"

Christophe smiles but doesn't answer instead he flings a couple of logs into the fire and with a small hand gesture sets them on fire. I gasp in shock as heat pours out from the fireplace. All that i can say is:

"How?"

"That is a simple trick that you will learn as easy as breathing."

I grasp onto his words as thoughts begin to form.

"You are some sort of witch?"

He smiles and sits down on one of the chairs next to the sofa. He gestures for me to sit and i sit as close to the fire as i can to keep the chill away. He hands me the books and i take them without paying attention to what they say. It is Christophe that i wish to learn from not some old battered book.

"If you were to go by mythical standards then i suppose i could be called a witch...amongst other things."

"Other things?"

Christophe gestures to the books.

"Everything you need to know is in those books and diaries. Written by several people over the centuries. One thing you must know is who we are is a sacred secret. Myself and others maintain our kind and protect them. That isn't to say we have not failed but with power like ours we can easily cover up any lapses."

"What am i?"

"You are one of the special few. Read the books they explain our history better than i could ever do."

With that he departs from the room leaving the fire burning brightly lighting up the dark corners of the room creating shapes that would scare even the bravest.