“You boys are going to have to hide somewhere,” my aunt announces, unaware of the new development waging war inside me. “I don’t wish to explain how you arrived before the police without a car.”
“I’m keeping the towel,” Donovan declares, getting up and pulling his shirt off, then stuffing both in his pockets-- the hand towel hanging out.
I wonder what would happen if their shirts were still on when they summoned their wings. And you’d think they’d have special shirts for flying to accommodate their wings.Then I remember its Donovan, so even if they did, he probably wouldn’t wear them.
“We’ll wait for Nolan and Connor and ride in with them,” Kaleb informs, pulling his shirt off, and neatly folding it, so it fits more easily in his back pocket.
“Oh, delightful. The other boys are coming too. Don’t you have school?” Mildred questions, sounding slightly exasperated.Maybe she isn’t used to people just dropping in on her unannounced.
“This is more important,” Donovan answers with a shrug, walking out onto the balcony. He then jumps up to grip the edge of the roof and hoists himself up, like he does it every day.
“We’re Callie’s friends,” Kaleb emphasizes, his gaze fixed to Mildred’s. “If she needs us, we’ll always come.”
He squeezes my hand, a vow that they’ll return soon, then makes his way to the balcony. Unlike Donovan, he perches on the balcony ledge with perfect balance, then his magnificent wings appear, the soft mist only accenting the golden sheen to the white feathers. He stretches them wide and without preamble, jumps off and glides up into the air.
“Show off,” is shouted from our roof, followed by Donovan gliding out next to him, and both disappear into the fog.
“Why walk or use front doors, when you can just fly off a balcony?” Felix comments wistfully.
“That would be the only way you’d travel if you could, and you know it,” I chide.
“Well, duh,” he replies with his infectious smile.
∞∞∞
When the police arrived, my aunt and I walked outside to greet them, not too keen to have them inside the house where all the magic books and stuff lived, and it’s been a downward spiral of epic proportions since they sauntered out of their cruisers.
First, they chewed us out for handling the fire ourselves and potentially ruining evidence. Mildred told them she put it out with a garden hose and some dirt-- magic may have been involved to get them to swallow that lie -- but apparently, we should’ve just let our house burn down waiting for the professionals.
After ensuring that we were thoroughly chastised, the officers followed it up by patronizingly stating how ridiculous it was that we managed to miss someone building a fire in our backyard during daylight-- like everyone else keeps 24-hour surveillance on all angles of their house.
Now, they’ve moved on to how ‘we little ladies’ should probably find a new place to live until they solve who did this. I already don’t like cops in general, but dealing with these idiots has my blood boiling, the stone hanging around my neck reaching burning briquette levels, and I’m ready to claw out the eyes of the two badged assholes in front of me.
“No one must have told you,” badged-asshole-number-one says, “but the family that lived here before was murdered, and the bodies were disposed of by a large fire right where the one this morning was set.”
My eyes turn mockingly wide, and in a high pitched voice dripping with sarcasm, I reply, “Was that what the giant burn mark in the yard was? Here I thought it was a backyard cookout gone wrong.”
“Callie,” my aunt whispers with a clipped warning, then answers evenly, “We were made aware of the tragic events that occurred here.”
Both officers are somewhere in their mid-forties, so nondescript as to be forgettable while looking at them, and have matching expressions of‘Lady, you’re nuts to live here.’Just being in their presence makes me furious.
They’re just another set of cops that are incompetent at their jobs.
Back in Phoenix, I had one accident after the next the year I turned fourteen-- practically had a permanent room at the hospital because of how often I was there-- and not one of the investigators thought something might be wrong. Sudden billowing smoke coming from our home at odd hours? Me disappearing for entire summers? Having a basement with heavy doors and locks? My father’s extensive collection of cleaning supplies? Not one red flag. I was tortured for years and nobody noticed.
Hell, the first car accident that started it all--and required the Jaws of Life to get my mangled body out of—not once did they consider the Bastard might have done it. They always sawhimas the victim. The poor professor stuck with a spoiled daughter that kept putting herself in harm’s way to get Daddy’s attention. It was like they intentionally refused to see the evidence right in front of their eyes.
I don’t expect much better from these officers since they scream ineptitude, as witnessed by Felix, who is keeping an eye on the one guy attempting to find evidence. So far, he has collected dirt into baggies and stared dumbfounded at the scorch marks streaking up the side of the house.
“Yeah, I heard about the Jacobs,” I say with a sneer, hands fisted at my sides, and trying to shake my horrible memories. “I also heard you’ve found exactly jack squat about the people that did it, and it’s been nearly five months since they were killed.”
“The investigation is ongoing,” badged-asshole-number-two counters, crossing his arms in an attempt to seem intimidating.
“If by ‘ongoing’ you mean doing nothing, then yeah, it looks like it’ll be ongoing indefinitely,” I fire back, getting right into his face. “So what was the plan? Were you hoping more dead bodies would pop up for you to fail at it a second time?”
“Callie, that’s enough,” Mildred orders, giving me a hard stare. “They’re only trying to give us some professional advice, if in the most condescending way possible.”
“Bullshit,” I screech, and wind starts whipping through the trees. “They don’t know anything, and they’re just trying to cover their asses. An entire family murdered and…”
