Chapter 11 - Flynn
636 Words
Jonathan paced the floor of my living room. His agitation and restlessness were getting on my nerves. He was adamant he wanted to help, work with me, but I still wasn’t sure. Letting the old woman wipe my memories fuelled his rage. I was surprised my home still stood. Over the past week, a few walls had cracked under the force of his fists, but there was nothing I could do. My mind was blank, an empty void.
“Stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy.”
He stopped. His stare, even in his good form, caused a tremor to rumble through my body.
“You’ll wear a hole in my floor, and my walls are bad enough.”
“I grow tired, brother. We need a way to find this witch, and you…” He glared at me. “You sit there day after day, reading those stupid books. That’s not helping.”
Those so-called stupid books held the answer we needed. I was certain of it. They contained folklore, history, and handwritten accounts of the fallen from centuries gone by.
“Have you sensed anything, seen anything?”
I looked up at Jonathan. “Nothing.”
“It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t—”
I cut him off. “If you hadn’t tried to kill her, behaved the way you always do, none of this would have happened. We’d be free by now.”
“I’ve had enough. How can you just sit and wait? I’m going to look for her, see if I can sense anything.”
“And if you do?” I asked.
“I’ll come get you. We’re in this together, like it or not.” Jonathan spread his wings and soared out the window.
I wasn’t sorry to see him go. The longer I spent with him, the more the demon inside me tried to claw its way to the surface. I’d never let that happen. It wasn’t who I really was, no matter what I looked like on the outside. I closed the book I was reading and placed it on the table. I was down to the last five volumes. If I didn’t find anything, I wasn’t sure what to do next. Perhaps Jonathan was right. Maybe having my memories erased was a bad idea.
As I reached for the next book, an image flashed in my mind. A young soul, coming of age. I couldn’t see her clearly, but salty air filled my nostrils. She was somewhere near an ocean. I gasped.
“She’s still alive.”
“Did you sense her?”
I jumped, eyes wide, and turned to see Jonathan standing there. “Yes.”
“Did you get a location?”
“No, just a glimpse of a young girl and the smell of the ocean.”
“Me, too. She must be cloaked, but at least it’s something. Find anything in your books?”
“Not yet, but I’m hopeful.” I sat back in the chair and recalled the image, trying to see if there was anything I missed.
“Did you recognize the water, perhaps where it might be?”
“I didn’t see it, just caught the smell in the air. It could be anywhere.”
Jonathan mumbled to himself and sat on the armchair opposite me.
“You staying?”
He sighed. “For a bit.” He picked up one of the remaining books. “What’s in these anyway?”
“History, prophecies, war, our heritage.”
“Maybe I’ll take a look. Two heads are better than one, right?”
I grinned at him. “Go for it.”
We sat in silence, flipping through the pages, hoping to find the clues we needed. Like this - working together - he didn’t seem so bad.
- Writer
