First of all, I need to be apologizing for the lack of uploads. I made a fatal mistake and decided to take summer classes to catch up in college work. Now I have no time for anything. Though, for those of you who like this story, be not afraid, this story is at the forefront of my mind constantly. New ideas keep popping up, so I'm hoping for some pretty interesting chapters to follow.
Cheers, my wonderful lovelies, and enjoy.
Chasing Humanity Chapter 7
The summer Missouri sun dragged through the plain, making anything underneath its rays groggy with heat.
"Hey, Tripp. Why didn't you tell me you got married? I would have come to the wedding." Shawn blurted out suddenly, in between blowing a bellow full of smoke at a hive. The bees dramatically slowed their crawling about.
Tripp laughed, "Shawn, not even my parents knew." Shawn's ears perked up, Tripp had parents? "Daisy ain't the most conventional of folk. She scares a lot of people with her dreams. But, let me tell you something! That fear is misplaced, people don't understand what she can do, so they decided it was better she get out of town. My parents, god dammit, were one of those people." Tripp's eyes matched the slightly dry grass, his hands gripping firmly on his hiving tool.
"I'm sorry, Tripp. I didn't know. If it makes you feel any better, I'm considered a bit of a freak myself in my hometown." Though, that was mostly due to his scamming the SBPD for ten or so years—that was totally beside the point.
Tripp expressive face looked to Shawn looking for…something. "What's got you labeled?" Shit…that's not where Shawn wanted the conversation to go.
"Um…well, you see, I work as a police consultant…doing psychic mojo and stuff. Lately though, spirits have seemed all kinds of wackadoodle." Tripp's mouth was agape in shock, almost disbelief.
"Daisy too! A psychic, I mean." He busted out, startling a deer at the edge of the clearing.
"Really? Like a bonafide psychic? Is she like a clairvoyant?" The smoke pot was placed on top of a bee hive, seemingly forgotten.
"In a manner of speaking…she can see the heart of a person, she sometimes has premonitions too. Those times are rough on her." Tripp set down his tool similarly. "Lately she's been seein' this black knight, surrounded by flames greater than hell fire. Right beside him is this younger fella,' mostly in white, a scar running straight down his chest." Tripp points from where his clavicles met to the bottom of his sternum. Shawn instinctively placed a hand over his scar coincidently in the same place.
"Anyways…the boy in white kept calling the knight 'Cain'. Cain in returned called the boy 'Abel.' My Daisy said that both them boys had a curse laid upon them." Abel? Alfie-Samandriel said something about Abel right before he completely lost consciousness.
"Did she say anything else? About Abel?" He never realized he was standing so close to Tripp, until the sun was totally eclipsed by the giant's face.
"That scar…was the mark of Abel, I think. A mark of ultimate betrayal. That's all I remember, you'd have to ask Daisy, she'd be the one to tell you more."
They heard Daisy hollering in the distance "Boys! Come get'chour dinner before Mr. Police Man here goes and eats it all up!" They grabbed the honey they collected, plus their tools before hauling ass back to the house.
-xSPxPsyx—
Inside, Daisy and Lassiter roamed about the kitchen, though Carlton primarily haunted the door after a good swack of wooden spoon kept him away from the broasted chicken on the stove.
"If you are that hungry, you can set the table. Dinner's almost done." Daisy chastised him, spoon still in hand. He sauntered over to the table, plates in hand.
The table was cast in the golden glow of the setting sun, Lassie could see Shawn and Tripp conversing right over the hill, their faces serious and drawn. He strained his eyes to read Shawn and Tripp's lips; Abel slipped from Shawn's mouth, plummeting into Carlton's gullet.
If Shawn knew the truth, there was no stopping their destinies. That being said, Carlton was afraid of the repercussions.
"Sweetheart, you gonna' stand there all day or set the table?" Daisy gave a consoling look, despite her words and went outside to fetch the boys.
Lassiter finished his task and sat down, knives and forks all squared with the plates. The cups roughly three inches from the top-right of the plates. Napkins folded with an additional crease for extreme order—for once, perfect order and it was all in his control.
Shawn and Tripp busted into the house, panting like they'd been chased by ghosts. "You act like the devil's been after ya." Daisy swooped in to kiss Tripp on the cheek. Tripp grinned.
"I've never been late for your cooking, sweet cheeks. Don't wanna make a habit of it either." He pulled in for a kiss on the lips and she gladly obliged.
"Hey! Save that for later! Now is food time!" Shawn yipped gleefully, sending loud shrills in Lassiter's ears. "FOOD!" Another high pitched squeal.
"Spencer. Shut. Up." Lassiter tugged on the back of Shawn's shirt, yanking down into the chair. Shawn grudgingly remained quiet for about thirty seconds before starting idle chit-chat with the matron of the household.
"So… Tripp…" Daisy gestured a hand up, silencing Shawn (much to Carlton's surprise).
"Told you about my abilities, huh?" Her amber eyes swept to her husband who was purposefully digging into the green bean casserole.
"As I told your cop friend, I see things that might or might not happen. If I tell you outright, you may change the outcome. Now changing a good thing may be a bad thing, Shawnie-boy, so please I know what you want to ask, but it's too soon for you to know." She sipped her iced tea casually, effectively ending all conversation for the rest of the evening.
-xSPNxPsyx—
It was late in the night, Shawn was turning restlessly in his sleep. Flashes on images, faces completely blurred all coalescing into a spaghetti-western-esque film. Suddenly a sharp pain emitted from his scar jolting him awake. It felt like a serrated knife penetrating not only his chest, but his soul.
He sat up in a slightly hunched position, to take pressure off his chest. His breath came out quiet and gasping, unable to get a full breath in.
He fumbled out of bed, unsure of his next location, maybe the bathroom. He needed to calm down from what was feeling like the beginnings of a panic attack.
He made it down the hall, hand gripping the wall like a lifeline. The bathroom lit slowly, first a flicker, then the yellow halogen bulb came to life.
Shawn gathered some water into his hands and took a drink, vaguely feeling the ridges in palms. He looked down shocked. Intricate patterns laced the back of his hands disappearing underneath his sleeves. His eyes shot to the mirror, terrified at his reflection. The pattern on his arm crawled slowly up his neck, the scar glowed bright blue underneath his shirt his hazel-gray eyes shifted between his natural colour and that of an ocean. The stabbing pain from before came back with a vengeance, robbing the breath from his lungs.
He fainted.