Petrichor

2200 words for you my dear little reader.
Enjoy . . .

Raven Eyes – Part 2 – Crashc(o)urse

For the first time in my life, it felt almost as if time was flowing slow enough to stop. In one moment I was staring at the car like a deer in the literal headlights and in the next, my gaze was drawn to its back seat where a young woman was comically slowly raising an eyebrow. There wasn't even the slightest bit of shock or panic on her face, like the men in the front seats displayed.

No, she was entirely composed, the perfect picture of aristocratic beauty. It was like I wasn't even staring at a person but a cold emotionless statue. Despite the situation, my entire attention was on her. Her so perfectly plucked eyebrow rising up, almost as if she was taunting me: "So, what now? Go on impress me!" 

Another long, drawn-out honk brought me back to my actual predicament almost instantly. Despite the driver slamming the breaks, the car was by now already less than a meter from my position. If I didn't act now, this was going to be it; my story of becoming a great Witch would be over before it had even begun. Instead of receiving a diploma I would be strapped to a hospital bed recovering from full-body fractures. 

I’d be Witch-pancake! Or better yet, road kill!!! No… no, I could let it end here I had still so much to accomplish! But no matter how scared I was, my magic, as well as my body, refused my command. I internally screamed at my body to do something, anything really.

My eyes again locked on to the rich girl in the car and I could swear she was smiling. Her mouth moved I couldn't hear her but for some reason, I could feel her words affecting me. What happened next I wasn't entirely sure? I could feel something hit me, not my body but the core of my very being. It was vile and repulsive as if my soul was stung by a dozen of nettles. Something buried inside me strained against whatever had affected me. Burns. Hurts. Hate!

And with this, the familiar feeling of magic suddenly welled up in me, but this time it was different. The arcane power flowing through me flared up in a maelstrom of half-forgotten and buried emotions and feelings. Wind beneath my wings. Bones cracking under my claws. The sweet taste of death on my tongue. In less than a split second, it had already reworked my body to survive whatever was thrown at me. Instead of being frozen in fear and shock, my body simply acted.

Physical body limitations, pain, gravity? My magic cared little for any of that, right now it was going to make me come out alive and there was that, no more questions necessary. My breath slowed, my eyes narrowed and without me wanting to, a sick toothy smile crept across my face. Can't touch. Can't Catch!

The car no longer rushed towards me, but seemed to almost drive through molasses so slow had it become to my eyes. As if it was the most natural of things my foot lifted up and stomped down on the still moving hood, catapulting me forwards and upward. My stupid squishy foot slipped due to the inertia carrying the car forward but that was okay. Luggage. Garbage. Heavy. Useless. I let go of my suitcase, sending it flying towards the sidewalk.

Putting my soft pathetic hands on the top of the car, I bend my arms, arched my back and pushed against the black roof with more power my lithe body should have. Not only doing a perfect jump roll over a moving car but somehow even acing the landing. Unharmed. Fight, Flight?

Behind me, the car came to a screeching hold. I turned around and glared at the laughable metal box. I had tried to hurt me! Naughty driver. Annoying humans.  Rip off their hea...

Wait, what? All of a sudden the magic and adrenaline flowing through me crashed simultaneously; all that was left behind was confusion and a massive headache. Just what had I been thinking right now? I grabbed at my head out of reflex but neither the pain nor the white fog in my mind wanted to recede.

Somehow I couldn't remember even a single thought from just a second ago. Looking down it dawned on me that I was standing right in the middle of the street. How had I ended up here? And where by Hecate was my damn luggage!?

Before I could answer any of the questions currently floating through my mind, my attention was drawn back to the car behind me. The door on the front passenger’s side opened up and a terrifyingly tall man in a black suit stepped outside. He looked around for a second almost as if searching for something before his eyes fell on me. Immediately his facial expression went from worried to pissed. Maybe he didn't like women with black hair?

“You!” He yelled at my while walking closer.

“Who?” I turned around in the hopes of having missed someone behind me. Yeah… there was no-one else. Well, there was a car with a scared-looking woman inside and several onlookers on the sidewalk so maybe he meant one of them? Sadly my hopes were crushed when a meaty hand fell on my shoulder.

“You!” This time his voice was laced with anger.

“Me?” I pointed at my face with a finger.

“Of course I fucking mean you! Who else could I be talking too!?”

“Well… Uhm, I dunno? I for sure have never seen you before, so why would I assume you were talking to me? Far more likely that you're yelling at somebody else!”

“Never seen …” He facepalmed, actually, the way he was looking at me seemed almost as if he thought I had a screw loose. "Are you fucking with me, little girl? We looked each other into the eyes just a moment ago!"

“Okay… if you say so. Can I go from the street now? I need to find my suitcase; I must have lost it somewhere.” I looked around a bit lost but perked up when I saw my electric blue suitcase lie on the other side of the street. I was just about to walk off when a strong hand seized me by my arm.

“Just where the heck do you think you are going? First, you run in front of the Lady's car and jump over it like some damn monkey, and now you just want to run away without even an apology!?"

“By the hells man!? Let go of me!” Much to my surprise, he did as I asked quicker even than I had expected. The only problem was that he no longer looked at me with anger or frustration, but straight up disgust.

“What did you just say, scum?”

“Huh!? Nothing? Wait do you mean my swear? So what, it isn't forbidden to mention the hells or swear on them!”

“Just because demon lover scum like you are allowed to practice your craft doesn't make it right! I have half a mind to teach you little shit a lesson…”

Now it was on me to facepalm. You may remember that my family owned a café? Yeah, that was only half of it, in addition to the café; we also acted as a shop for a specific clientele. In our case, it was mostly witches that specialized in forming contracts with demons and drawing power from the seven hells. We offered ingredients, literature, summoning rooms and even magical assistance for those interested.

My family had been in this business for hundreds of generations. Even throughout the dark ages, the Dutrar clan had stood strong against anyone trying to rob them of their freedom and heritage. As my grandmother was with two- hundred and eleven a bit too old to do a lot of the work, my mother together with her sister and sometimes my cousins ran most of the store.

And now came the problem with being a so-called "dark-witch", we were generally not that… well received in public. While it was an entirely legal craft and there was even a state-funded culture-grand for keeping the tradition alive, a lot of people tended to think a bit negatively of it. Most of the time it wasn't really all that much of a problem; normal people might be reserved about the topic, but usually, curiosity overshadowed animosity. Well, only most of the time, for there were a selected few people that viewed our mere existence as heresy. These hardliners could be found all across society but the most came from old aristocratic families or people who worked for them. Just like the delightful man in front of me, apparently.

I could have tried to convince the man that his viewpoint was offensive. I could have told him about how it is a risky but strictly controlled craft. I even could have made the point that conversation with individuals from a place with such a rich and diverse culture could potentially lead to impressive steps forward in the fields of science, engineering and philosophy.

Or I could have just plain told him that due to my volatile magic I had never before summoned a demon and therefore technically wasn't a dark-witch. I could have done all that, easily even, but I had a bus to catch and so I did something radically different. I flipped him the bird. Get it? It's funny cause I too can be a bird? Sorry ‘bout that…

Yeah, thinking about it now I realize just how brain dead stupid that idea was. Suffice to say, he wasn't all that pleased. Especially when in addition to letting my temper free reign, I threw the words: “Screw you, racist ass!” at him. Guess what, he liked that even less. At that moment I was already running towards my suitcase and he was hot on my heels. Score for wearing sneakers over flats or high heels right there. I had thought my luck would run out this time but much to my surprise a single word changed the entire situation.

“Stop.”

She - and it was obviously a woman - hadn't even yelled but simply said the words just loud enough for us to hear. Yet the effect was undeniable. In a split second both the tall guy and I stopped dead in our tracks and looked towards the car. I also learned something else about myself at that moment. Maybe it was due to a lack of a male authority figure growing up or because I was so drilled on obeying my mother and aunt that I was kind of primed for it, but either way, I apparently was a sucker for commanding women voices.

And damn me if she hadn't exactly that. While she sounded not much younger or older than me, there was a self-confident certainty to the way she spoke, that made more than clear she was expecting to be obeyed and nothing else. It must have had more of an effect on me than I thought because I couldn't even tell how long I had been standing there waiting for her to speak again. A small part of my mind yelled at me to grab my luggage and run after the bus, but that was quickly silenced by the rest of my brain in favour of what she would say next.

“Leave her be John. She isn’t worth it and we are already late.”

The so-called John didn't seem to like the way things were going but still, he complied... after spitting on the ground in front of me. What a charming fellow, oh how I hoped I would never have to see him again. I just jinxed it didn't I? Still, I was kinda disappointed by how mellow this whole situation ended up becoming. I mean, yes I was about to get floored by a guy with at least 50 kilos on me but still, him just getting called off like that? It kinda made me feel a bit unimportant.

Then again it was basically the story of my life. Alice Dutrar the one Witch in the entire world that can't use her magic and is additionally "Not worth" getting beaten up by fascists. As I watched the back car drive off I made my way over to my luggage and was just about to walk towards the bus stop when I looked up.

I this moment I wasn't sure anymore if I should cry or just start laughing. My whole running here and even getting almost driven over by a car didn't matter anymore because the damn bus had already left. First day of my first semester at the Royal Academy of Witchcraft: Officially the worst day of my life...

...

... till now.

Petrichor

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