17

SOLEIL

I patiently wait for a response from Brice.

His hands which were in mine a few seconds ago are now firmly on the wheel. I guess I shouldn't be surprised but I'm no less hurt. He probably thinks I'm cooked - a total nutcase. And after receiving similar treatment from Mark, I'm semi-numb to rejection at this point.

Emotional damage my subconscious chides.

His knuckles turn white. The angry roar of the car's engine which was exciting a few minutes ago now just seems ominous. Is it just me or are we moving faster?

I look at him in quiet panic. He glares at me in turn.

"What did you say?"

"Uhm Brice" I look between him and the road. "Can you slow down?"

He gives me a bemused smile and revs the engine shifting up a gear. My heartbeat shifts along with it. I grip onto the door handle.

"Brice, I'm sorry!" This must be the dozenth apology I've given tonight but I don't know what else to say. He looks pissed and I don't know if he's trying to kill us or maybe just scare me. Either way, it's working.

"Not another word, Soleil. If you want us to arrive in one piece, pas un autre mot." Not another word.

I shut my mouth and we arrive at the manor in the next 10 minutes even though it feels like an hour sitting in the tense silence. Brice punches in the code and the black, wrought-iron gates swing open. Cars fill the front drive.

Brice picks a spot and just parks not caring that he's obstructing two other vehicles. He gets out of the car and starts walking. I scramble out and follow because I don't want to be left alone in the parking lot.

We take the stairs and enter through the heavy, wooden double doors which are held open by a male servant.

I follow Brice in. He's a few paces ahead of me and turns right down a hallway with the impressive art I got a tour of the last time I was here. This time I'm not getting a tour. I expected to run into people. Surprisingly, it looks like there's no one.

The mansion is eerily quiet.

Where is everybody?

We climb a set of stairs and on the second floor, three doors down, we come to a stop and enter a bedroom.

Brice heads to the sound system and turns up the music. He enters the bathroom and slams the door behind him without sparing me a glance.

I just stand there like a dweeb. Did I make a mistake? Should I be in here alone with him? Technically we're not alone by the looks of things downstairs, but where are all the people who arrived in the cars parked downstairs?

I wanna call someone - Char, but I can't lay this on her especially after ditching her. She explicitly told me not to tell him about the wish, but I didn't listen. I couldn't violate my conscience any longer by pretending this was just another day in my life.

I decide to take a look around at the steel pressed ceilings and large platform bed. The french nuances in the room are impressive. Everything is so authentic, from the murals to the fabrics of the bedding and curtains. I feel the heavy fabric and wonder if it was imported.

There's an oil painting on the wall opposite the bed and it looks like Brice, albeit a more regal version. I walk over to his bedside table and pick up a few pictures that show him standing between a striking dark haired couple who he shares features with.

I briefly think about my parents. The last picture I have of us together is when I was 7.

I pick up another frame and another. There's one with the same man who I presume is his dad and one with about two dozen different men in black suits. He stands in the center next to a handsome, blonde. The only picture I see of his mom is in the family portrait. I don't know how to feel about his sister - Hailey's absence on this shelf.

I file the thought away to unpack later. I have enough going on right now.

I don't want to be a creep so I don't dare open any doors or drawers. However, that doesn't stop me from moving over to the door Brice disappeared behind. I lean in and hear the shower running. His muffled voice drifts through the wood. Is he talking to himself?

I knock gently.

"Brice?" I call out.

Nothing.

I decide to give him a few minutes. What else can I do? Where can I go? It's not like I have another ride back to Milton. Technically, I could call a cab, but how would I even begin to direct them to this place? Can Brice get his shit together and talk to me even if it is to yell and cuss me out.

The most unsettling thing is how he hasn't said a word to me. The look he gave when I tried to fully explain... Those dreamy, grey eyes turned deadly. If looks could kill I'd be deceased in Tsepho's car.

Maybe he needs to take a shower and cool off I reason with myself. I'm about to walk away when I think I hear my name. Maybe I'm hearing things, but once again I lean against the door.

"SOLEIL!"

I almost jump back, his voice vibrating through the wood. If he wanted me to hear him he shouldn't have put the music all the way up. I take a deep calming breath to compose myself and reach for the knob.

I don't know what I'm expecting on the other side but I walk in anyway. The room is dark and humid, clouded with steam like a sauna.

I stand rooted a few feet from the threshold holding onto the knob. I can somewhat see the shadow of Brice's body through the haze.

"Come here."

I've never heard him sound this way. His voice is low and husky. Usually, its confident and loud with a teasing undertone.

"Brice?" I'm scared and uncertain. Why?

"Strip and come here. Now!" He raises his voice as if I'm hard of hearing.

I'm shaking as I pad over to him.

The only thing I dare remove is my shoes as I toe the sandals off.

The bathroom is a cement grey and open in design. A single glass pane separates the shower head from the toilet beside it. A black, claw foot tub is placed on the opposite end closest to the wall separated by another glass pane. In the center is the shower, the rectangular faucet pouring a steady stream in a wide beam

I'm standing directly behind Brice. There's no glass partition between us.

As many times as I've imagined him naked, nothing prepared me for the sight. His back is wide. The muscles underneath flex and ripple as he braces himself against the wall. He's got a muscular ass and stands on sturdy legs even though he looks winded as his body heaves from the deep breaths he's taking.

Instead of being aroused, I'm scared.

"Soleil..." he grits out.

Despite my trepidation, I move forward. I refuse to be any more vulnerable by being naked and afraid. I need every stitch of clothing to form a barrier of protection even though the material makes for flimsy armour.

As I draw closer to him, I realise that the steam is not coming from the water. It's coming from him. He looks so much bigger. In morbid fascination, I reach out to touch his back and quickly draw my hand from the scorching heat of his flesh.

Before I can step back, my wrist is in Brice's hand and his other is wrapped around my throat as he slams me against the wall.

The wind is knocked out of me and my vision blurs under the force of the water.

"Tell me again, petite" his lips quirk in cruelty, his grip tightens, "what happened?"

I try to speak but can't get a word past the hold he has on my windpipe.

I blink away a mixture of the shower spray and my tears. His eyes shift colour transitioning from a dark, stormy gray to the lighter, clear prisms of a crystal.

"Nothing to say?"

Does he really expect me to answer him right now? Seriously?!

I'm quickly losing consciousness but before I slip away I think I may be losing my mind.

His eyes are glowing.

It feels like I'm staring at the high beams of a car. It hurts to look at him but I cant blink. I can't look away.

"I might as well see for myself."

Those are the last words I hear before I feel a force like no other invade my mind.

BRICE

I stare at the water running through Soleil's dark hair and cascading over her smooth brown skin. I feel my temperature rise even more.

How dare she touch me. I'm getting angrier. I can't cool down and this is as cold as the water gets.

How could she do this to me?

Why would she do this to me? Trick me; play with my mind.

"Tell me again, petite. What happened?" I demand.

She wished that I would notice her?

She's lying.

That doesn't make any sense. Of course, I noticed her. We go to the same damn school and it's small and she's beautiful. I just want to rip her clothes off and sink into her.

I shake the thought out of my head.

Is this her real form or am I seeing something else - what she wants me to see?

That doesn't even make sense. She's attractive - her name's been tossed around in the locker room - she's just not my type. I liked them older and more experienced. Hailey was the last high school girl I'd be with. I swore it until she came along - Soleil.

I stare at her pretty face - the crescent shape of her eyes, the fullness of her lips, the button nose that suits her perfectly. My gaze trails down her small body that reveals its feminine shape under the wet clothes that cling to her brown skin and I harden.

I've never felt any sexual attraction towards her. Why now?

"Nothing to say?"

My anger boils over into lust and I squeeze her neck a little tighter in an attempt to control the rising urge to devour her. I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to find out the truth because I can't believe a word that comes out of her seductive mouth.

She has more than my attention - she's become my obsession. I think I'm under a love spell and I plan to break it. I just need to figure out how she cast it.

A memory walk would give me insight. Not having much experience in the ability, I tried to contact Thierry to no avail. I guess he's busy and I'm old enough to deal with my own shit instead of always calling Daddy for help.

"I might as well see for myself," I conclude.

They say the eyes are the windows to one's soul so I focus on her brown irises. The pupils are dilated and vibrate with fear. She looks innocent, but looks can be deceiving. I don't believe anything about her. I no longer trust myself when it comes to her either.

Eyes function like a camera and I need to see what she saw. I focus my energy on hers, gazing into their depths, forming a connection to the retina - the part that captures images.

I've only done this once before, but I've watched Thierry search the minds of others to get to the truth dozens of times. It's quite the trick. The enquirer stands outside of the memory as an observer. One is able to see and hear everything the person in question captured of the moment even things they may have forgotten or failed to notice.

I chant the day, date, and location of the fare in Latin. A language dead to the world but kept alive in my family. I visualise the festival and call forth the image from her mind that mirrored in mine.

It takes a while to search the frames and would be much easier if we interacted that day and shared memory. I finally find the frame I'm looking for and step into it to take a closer look.

Our eyes and bodies are locked in place in the bathroom while I transfer my consciousness into her mind at the fair. I find myself walking next to Soleil and her friend Charlondra. Neither of them notices me because I was never there.

They talk about school and the holidays, go on rides, indulge in greasy food, and play those dumb games that win you stuffed prizes.

Soleil zones out for a bit and I follow her line of sight. She's looking at me and Hailey. The image of me in her memory throws his head back in laughter and I recall Hailey made a stupid joke about tea cups while we were riding in one. I laughed because it was lame not because it was funny. She looks happy and I cringe at what I said and how I left things back at the party.

I take note of Char's remark regarding "magnetism" and "the law of attraction". She's quite the skeptic it seems. I continue to walk with them to an unfamiliar part of the fair I never saw that day. They enter a purple tent. I never saw this place that day.

Every year it takes place, I hope for something different and exciting, but every year it's the same lame circus. Maybe there are a few new faces or a new act, but nothing to write about.

They enter a purple tend that is filled with mirrors. I see their reflection but not mine. I then remember that witches use mirrors to scry for locations or destinies or just the general state of a person.

This place is curious and if I happened upon it, I would've be able to read the energy - to pick up on any magic. Could it have been under a cloaking spell?

What is going on here?

They come out on the other side of the tend and meet a tall man who greets them with a bow. He appears to be a sorcerer. The thick scent on him that permeates Soleil's memory is more than just cologne.

What is he doing here and how did he go undetected?

He invites them into a smaller, black tent. They look both nervous and intrigued before they step in. Soleil hesitates at the man's beguiling words, but after a moment, she takes the quill and all that he offers her.

Charlondra remains skeptical, her face stoic, yet she follows suit writing in the book. I look down at the worn paper and see nothing.

No ink. No words. From both of them. The contract is binding nonetheless. They're both idiots.

The book slams shut, and I note the Arabic inscription atop.

Fuck! What did they agree to?

My annoyance collapses the mirage of the memory. The black curtains of the tent fall away and steel walls go up around me instead. I'm now looking through the obscured vision of blinds.

No, a vent. I'm inside a ventilation system lying next to a small girl in twisted pig tails with two, round beads hanging off both ends. According to the laws of physics, it would be impossible for us both to occupy this space. But this is not science, it's magic. I've entered another one of Soleil's memories and a very old one at that.

I look through the vent and see the tattooed hand of a man who holds a pistol aimed at a black man kneeling before him.

"Dead men tell no tales," he says and pulls the trigger.

The silencer muffles the shot. The black man falls back with a dull thud, blood and brain matter splattered onto the wall and spread on the floor. He then shifts his aim to the woman kneeling beside the dead body in silence. Her eyes are closed, silent tears stream down her face when he pulls the trigger. She too falls with that same sickening thud.

The little girl beside me pants silently as tears fall down her chubby, brown cheeks. Her eyes are unblinking, glued to the horrific scene before her.

"Soleil," I call knowing she can't hear me.

I know that haunted look all too well.

"Brice! Que fais tu ici? Merde! Une femme - de toutes les nuits!" What are you doing here? Fuck! A woman - of all nights!

My consciousness returns to my body. I turn to face Thierry and see him throw his hands up in exasperation. His voice is what pulled me out of the mirage and back into my body, my bathroom.

Soleil's eyes stare back at me unseeing and unblinking, silently panting like that scared little girl from her memory. I loosen my grip around her throat and place her on her feet. Despite my reservations, I reach for her and draw her to my side when she sways unsteadily.

"I was trying to call you. She-" I try to get in.

"I don't have time to listen to your excuses today. You're throwing the energy of the entire house off. You disrupted a ceremony we waited an entire year to observe. Do you have so little self control, garçon? Take your little girlfriend and get out before I throw you out!" he spits and then vanishes.

I needed his help. I needed to talk to somebody. I needed a friend who would understand. As usual, I'm left alone to figure it out.

The myriad of emotions swirling within me have me retreating back into the hardened version of myself. Thierry's anger and disappointment is chilling. I loosen my grip on Soleil and she slumps to the floor shivering, her eyes still wide open. She's in shock.

I'm a bit dazed myself from the memory walk and being jerked back so suddenly as I try to process everything I saw. The tent of mirrors, the wizard, the book, the quill and the murder scene. My mind drifts back to the man who made all of this possible. Why would he grant Soleil's wish? What could he possibly want in exchange?

My mind briefly wanders to the second memory - Soleil witnessing the death of those two people. Were they her parents?

At this point, I don't have the time let alone the mental capacity to pretend at normalcy after Thierry's little tirade. Despite being told not to, I pick Soleil up bridal style from the wet floor and teleport to her room back at Milton.

I know what to visualise her dorm to go there which is no problem seeing how I've snuck in during assembly when I was least likely to get caught. While the student body and teachers were in the hall, I was indulging my obsession and stalking her. I wanted to know where she slept, what products she used that give her that unique smell, and any other secrets she hid from the world.

Now in her room, I place her on the bed and wonder who exactly Soleil Spellman is. I give in to the desire, the pull, that she has invoked within me and run my nose along her neck, the vein there throbs rapidly.

She smells clean, sweet - innocent. Definitively, not a witch.

Before I lose the little control I have and touch her, I teleport back to the Manor.

WC 3011

09/12/2022

This wraps up ACT 1 - I already know that I'm going to go back and rewrite certain aspects to make things tighter and clearer but that's once I'm done. Like some themes aren't apparent until it's on paper.

Anyway... I suffer from OCD when reviewing my writing.

I just can't seem to write and post. LOL. HELP.

I reread these chapters waaay too much for it to be constructive 💀 I'm a sniper for grammar 💀💀

So thank you for the feedback in the votes and comments. You help put things in perspective or highlight something I may have overlooked. Xx

Question:

Do you think Brice's anger is justified?

(He feels violated because his free will was circumvented by this wish. Even though he's attracted to her, he's not sure if it's his own desire or the spell at play.)

Soleil was honest about her part, maybe to a fault but here we are 🤷🏾 lol

Imagine an entire book with this spell struck idiot and my girl feigning ignorance 😑 Character development. Abeg.