Chapter 9
"Get your things and get out of this
establishment!" screeched Ava Brown like a banshee. "Ive a
good mind to call the cops, that was assault missy!"
Abbie
felt the anger beginning to build to a pressure point that was gonna
explode. The pain in her fingertips was becoming excrutiating.
"No!
We wont leave! I did not throw anything at you, my brothers can
attest to that!"
"Well what do you call that little
example? I call that assault, thats what!"
Sam tried to
intervene. "Lets all just try to calm down here shall
we?"
"Sams right, come on now" said Dean, taking
hold of Abbies arm. In doing so, Abbie furiously tried to tear her
arm free of Deans grasp. The clock on the wall suddenly shot off,
and went flying like a frisbee and just skimmed Avas head.
Stunned
silence. "GET OUT!" Ava shouted.
Sam could have
sworn he actually saw a bright white light explode from Abbies
fingertips as the clock did its thing. He cant have though surely? He
made a note to himself to mention it to Dean when everyone had calmed
down.
After paying for damages, and quickly shoving all their
gear together, the Winchesters left Ava Brown and her shithole motel
behind.
There was 5 minutes of silence in the car as they
drove around looking for a diner and another motel. Dean broke that
silence.
"So Im thinking someone needs anger management or
something!"
"Bite me" replied Abbie
"Hey,
im being serious Sis. Things get smashed around like that every
place we go just cos some old biddy pisses you off, eventually
someone will call the cops in"
"You were really angry
Abbie" Sam said.
"I couldnt help it! She was being
unreasonable and a total bitch! and I didnt throw anything" she
said in a small voice.
A short pause.
"Well
I think judging by the fact you couldnt reach the clock from where
you were standing kinda proves that" Dean said.
"Poltergeist?"
Abbie asked with the hint of hope in her voice.
"I dont think
so Sis" said Sam. "As the clock came off the wall, I swear
I saw a bright white light from your fingertips"
"No
way" from Abbie and Dean.
"Im telling you!" said
Sam
"Trick of the light or something" Dean said.
"It
wasnt I swear"
Abbie thought of the pain... "Well,
just before both things smashed... I kinda felt a pins and needles
type feeling in my fingers, then the angrier I got, it started
hurting..."
"Really?" said Sam
"Yeah"
Abbie looked like a frightened child sat in the back of the Impala,
and Sam wanted to comfort her. Dean kept quiet and kept on driving.
"And
its never happened before has it?" asked Sam.
"Never! I
know im a bad tempered cow sometimes, but nothing like this"
she felt tears threatening, real ones this time. Sam reached his hand
out to her and gave hers a squeeze.
"Hey Sis, dont cry,
were here now. Nothing will ever happen to you as long as Dean and I
are around. Family right?"
Abbie sniffed and wiped her tears
with her free hand.
"Thanks Sam"
Dean looked in the
mirror and caught Abbies eye, winked kindly at her.
They
found a diner and had their usual pancakes and coffee. Abbie was
using the ladies room.
Dean and Sam had been mulling things over
whilst she was gone. "This is some weird shit Sammy"
"Yeah,
I know. I definately saw the light spark from her though I
swear"
"Who did dhe say brought her up after her
Mom?"
"Grandma. Id love to speak with her. I mean Abbie
lost her Mom early, so she cant know anything at all about her
really."
"Mmmm. I mean people can move things with their
minds cant they? Telekenisis? And look at that freaky spoon bending
guy"
Whilst tidying herself up, Abbie decided she wanted
to find out more about what was going on with her. The only person
that might know was Grandma, even though they werent close anymore.
When Abbie was a little girl, she distinctly remembered 2 old,
large books in the attic. Really thick and dusty. Whilst up there
together clearing the place out, little Abbie came across them and
showed Grandma.
"What are these Grandma?" she
recalled.
Grandma snatched them off her... "Oh nothing
much sweety, just old rubbish. Gran will throw them out"
One
word smacked Abbie in the middle of her memory bank. A word written
in the fanciest of styles on each thick book...
Grimoires
