Whispers in the wind

Chapter 5 - Death

In times when you are caught between people, preferably two, which you get along with; you would talk you way out of their argument. But in this case, Joe had no choice whatsoever. Talking wasn't an option; he had to make a decision. Whether he saw the cold livid eyes of his father, or the terrified gaze of the petite in front of him, his instincts told him to grab Francoise's hand and run to safety, and so he did. He could only see blurs off the people that he ran by, blurs of the traffic lights that hung brightly over him. Francoise was shaking; her hand was moist with sweat. She whispered something that Joe couldn't quite make out. And then suddenly they stopped, Joe had nowhere to run anymore. They rested for a few minutes, and Joe knew in despair that he could not hide from his father. Francoise let go of his hand sharply and said accusingly; "Who are you? Are you trying to kill me too?" Joe shook his head and breathlessly smiled.

"No, but my father is...you...have to get away." Joe caught his breath once more and motioned with hand all around him. "We can't hide here any longer, he'll find us." Francoise nodded swiftly and said in an oddly calm voice, "Yes, I know of a place. It's not far off. It's the house of my..." Francoise didn't know what to exactly say, the sage wasn't her father, to say so would be foolish. But she could not see him as a master. "He is my grandfather, he knows counter charms I'm sure." Joe could not object, after all he had nothing else in mind. They made a run for the house that stood at the foot of the hills, furnished, and with age. Francoise knocked franticly on the door sensing Joe's father nearer.

"Grandfather! Grandfather! It's me, Francoise, open up please!" To her surprise the door opened with a creak, it was unlocked.

Francoise assumed that the sage was probably blessing a shrine, or sending out on errands. It didn't matter, he had taught her a few charms anyway. She was sure that he'd be back soon. They entered the house and sat down in the living room across from each other, looking at an awkward silence.

"I'm really sorry about this, I should have never--"

"It really wasn't your fault; your father is much more powerful than you. Am I right?" Francoise said with a soft laugh, she was no longer with the son of a murderer but her fellow schoolmate, Joe. "You are right, but I can't help but feel guilty about this, my father, he is--"

"A ruthless killer who hunts down charmed witches?" Francoise finished. "No, he's just doing his job."

"I suppose that excuses him for all the lives he's stolen, all the tears he has made people shed, the fear he has probe into them every step they took before their last moment?"  Francoise felt calm asking this, and she was scared of it. It seemed as if the words were just coming out, out of nowhere.

"You don't know anything about my father, your line destroyed us!" Joe said now his voice edging with anger. "Does killing help, does it make him feel better every night knowing that there's one less out there of us? Does it help you to know that he also murdered children? Innocent little children that couldn't help but be born into this line?" Francoise was now frightened, it was as if she was hearing someone else ask these cruel questions. "What about my mother, Joe? She was killed by the fear of being hunted down, and I saw it happen when I was just a small girl" Francoise clasped her hand over her mouth; she had never spoken of that. It awoke an awful feeling inside of her. "I'm sorry, I never knew, I--" Joe began but Francoise rushed in tears and slammed the door into her room. How could she have admitted that? She had sworn never to speak to of it again.

And there it was that feeling. That stop in her stomach where she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, she just cried. Her silent tears sparkled on the floor.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Joe passed his hand through his mahogany mane. What had just happened? They were talking amicably then the next they were yelling. Something seemed wrong, something else. It was as if he was sparked with sudden anger, anger that had resided in him since long ago.

He looked at a picture next to him; it was of an old man with Francoise. Her grandfather, Joe assumed.

"But how? I never felt this upset before. And to her, why...? Joe couldn't help wonder if his father was in the midst of it all. Suddenly, he was seeing something, a vision.

Red, there was red everywhere.

"Too much blood, too much blood..." Joe whispered to himself as the images changed. There laid the body of an old man, his white cotton shirt soaked in the red blood. "This man, this man is Francoise grandfather."

"But that means..."

"It can't be, father..."

But it was true.

He was dead.

"Francoise..."

A/N: There! I finally defeated writers block, and I am exhausted from endless hours of brainstorming. R/R!