Chapter 4:
Author's Note: thank you ericafine101 and Phantasie for your reviews! Its nice to have a steady audience and it really does help my self confidence! Thanx!
Desiree slowly opened her eyes, then shut them again against the harsh light of the sun streaming through the attic window. She moaned, every inch of her body ached as though she had spent the night inside a punching bag. It took a moment for her to realize where she was, and then the panic hit. What had happened last night? Had someone ambushed them? Or had it really been the spell Julia read? Not spell, she reminded herself, poem. She sat up slowly and gingerly, trying to ignore the searing pain in her arm where she'd fallen. The first thing she noticed was Julia and Wyatt, both lying on the floor beside her, curled up in dreamless sleep. Wyatt was breathing slowly, his limbs curled in odd angular positions. Nothing looked broken however, and he was sleeping peacefully. Julia also seemed quite content to lay there all day, but there was something different about her. She didn't look hurt, nothing beyond the mild aches and pains of her fall, but she seemed...strange. Her positioning seemed to have something odd about it. Desiree scooted closer to her, then tilted her head to look from the side.
Desiree had to clap a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. Julia was floating, no, levitating, almost an inch off the floor! She scrambled back, knocking over the pedestal on which the book had lay the night before. It was now open on the floor, Julia having dropped it. The wooden stand hit the floor with a bang, waking both sleeping figures. "What?" Wyatt muttered, sitting up groggily and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
Julia too pushed herself into a sitting position. The moment she had woken, she had gently resettled onto the floor. It was hard for Desiree to be sure she had even seen Julia hovering like that in her sleep, and that it hadn't just been a trick of the light. Desiree pushed it to the back of her mind, as she searched for a way to explain the previous night. Julia stretched, reaching her willowy arms out and grasping at the heavens. "What time is it?" she yawned.
Wyatt looked at his watch. Immediately all thought of the strange occurrences of the previous night were driven clean from his mind. "Damn it!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet, "its 9:30!"
Desiree shot off the floor, through the attic doorway and down the unfamiliar steps, Wyatt right behind her. It took the two of them maybe ten minutes to get ready. Julia just sat there, sprawled across the attic floor, breathing in the smell of dust and old memories, and listening to the frantic sounds of her two cousins leaving for work .She then slowly pulled herself from the floor, savoring the thought of the time she had on her hands. She bent down and picked up the mysterious, age old, 'book of shadows,' set to rights the pedestal and replaced the book upon its stand. Again she ran her hands over the hardened leather. She could just feel the age, the knowledge, almost radiating from it. She felt something more under her hand, something she couldn't quite place. The feel of the leather cover, the yellowed pages, the cover design, it was so familiar, so. . .welcoming. This was something she was meant to have, that much was clear to her. Carefully she picked up the book again and carried it over to a dusty couch. Settling herself in a patch of sunlight, she opened the book and began to read.
Desiree gingerly opened the door of the social services office, praying no one could hear or see her. She quietly made her way to her desk, trying to keep as low as possible, but . . ."Halliwell!"
Desiree winced slightly as her boss's harsh voice rang out across the office. Damn! She thought, almost! She walked, smiling and bright eyed, across the room. "Where have you been?" he demanded.
Desiree wasn't quite sure how to respond, "uh...my cousin just came home last night and, uh, I stayed up late getting her. . .settled?" she answered hopefully, praying he would buy it. Mr. McDermen looked her up and down and she shivered. Whenever he looked at her that way she had the uncomfortable sensation that her was looking through her. He was tall, bald and heavy set, with broad shoulders and a fleshy face. He wasn't a mean person, but he had high expectations of his employees. He sighed, "just get in there," he said gesturing at the conference room, the closed off space within the main office in which individual cases were discussed, "the Fielding case is ready."
Desiree scowled. Fielding was a child abuse case. Alex and Nicole Fielding were regularly beating and neglecting to feed their daughter, 7 year old Danielle. The parents had considerable money and quite a bit of recognition, making their's a case of great importance, so as the top social worker at the agency, naturally she was assigned to it. Social worker had been the obvious career choice for
Desiree. She had always loved Grams' stories about her mother, a devoted young woman, dedicating her life to helping others, Paige had always been a major roll model in Desiree's life. She had strived for nothing more than to fill her mother's old position, but this case had her reeling. The problem was that the Fieldings had money, and thus the best medicine it could buy. They never left any physical evidence and there were no witnesses save Danielle. She would hardly talk for fear of her parents, and what she did say was her word against theirs.
As Desiree entered Mrs. Fielding stood up. "I have had enough of this!" she said firmly, eyes flashing, "first you accuse me of abusing my daughter, you destroy my reputation, pull me and my husband away from our lives, emotionally scar Danny, and this. . .crusade doesn't even mean enough for you to be on time! This is ridiculous!" she gathered herself up in a most indignant manner and pulled on her daughter's hand, "come one Danny," she pretended to fight back tears, "lets go!"
Little Danielle looked pleadingly at Desiree as her parents took her roughly by the hands and dragged her out of the office. "Wait," tried Desiree's partner Sofia Roper. She stood as though attempting to follow them, then sank back into her chair. She looked at Desiree, "where the hell were you?" she demanded.
Her tone wasn't mean, nor was her look. She was just annoyed. Without waiting for an answer she stood up and poured herself some coffee from the pot on the nearby table. Desiree ran her fingers through her hair. "I. . .overslept," she said uncertainly.
Sofia glanced at her, amused, "is that your final answer?" she smirked, than turned back to her coffee.
I wish, Desiree thought. She looked despairingly at the Fieldings as they dragged their daughter through the doors. She sighed, "I just wish there was some way we could stop them from leaving," she growled in frustration, "like take her car keys!"
As soon as she uttered the words 'car keys,' she felt an odd tingling on her palm. Sofia turned, frowning, "do you hear bells?" she asked. Desiree, however, wasn't listening. She had gone dead white, staring at her hand. "I," she stammered, "I gotta go."
Sofia stared at her, confused, but Desiree was already rushing from the office. "Halliwell!" yelled Mr. McDermen, but she ignored him. She didn't stop until she was out in the parking lot, sitting in her mother's green Volkswagen Beetle. She leaned her head against the seat and moaned, then looked back down at the rabbit's foot, borders savings clip card and two silver keys in her palm.