Escaping the Enemy Chapter 1
Okay I finally started writing the story that's been haunting me.
I can't guarantee that it's gonna be Calron, but I do plan it to be if it goes the way I want it to. I also don't know if it's gonna have anything too crazy in it either as I normal write stuff that isn't too crazy.
Also posted on my Quotev. Chapter under the line. Thank you for reading! (not edited by the way)
Chapter 1: Headaches
""Sarah," he whispered, tears thick in his throat. "I'll tell him how you died protecting him. I will raise him to remember how brave you were."
Magisterium: The Iron Trial (Black & Clare, 4)
Callum Hunt thought he would never get use to waking up this way: his head bounced off the window of his father's Rolls-Royce as they sped down the highway.
And he was not happy about being woken up.
Honestly, Call would normally appreciate being woken up to the pain in his head. It helped him ignore the pain in his bad leg and pulled him out of his nightmares. But he was having a good dream for once filled with his favorite foods, animals, and his family in one piece. Out of all of the aspects of his dreams, his family being together was the one thing he would never have.
His father, Alastair Hunt, had always told him the same stories about his mother's death over and over again. When he was five, Call had vivid nightmares about a man stabbing her to death; fifty percent of the time, Call was watching the scene from a distance. The other fifty percent, he was the one who killed his mother.
Since Alastair noticed his son was having nightmares about it, he stopped talking about his wife. Call didn't know any other stories about his mother. He didn't even know what she looked like anymore. But when he still had the nightmare, he knew that she was the one dying at his feet.
"Callum," Alastair spoke. "I see you're awake."
Call attempted to keep in his snarky comment.
"Yeah," he responded before muttering, "like I could sleep with you driving like a maniac."
"I heard that," his father responded, "but I'll let that comment go. We're stopping shortly at a rest stop. You know the drill. Make sure you look presentable."
Call rolled his eyes before carefully sitting up in his seat. He attempted to stretch his bad leg out, hoping that would help with the pain that normally came when he had been sitting in the car for hours. Since Call was five, they had been living out of different cars that Alastair had stored all over the country. Sometimes they stopped often in order for Call to get WiFi to turn in homework since he was taking online classes, but since it was the summer Alastair had insisted on driving longer distances. He had been extra paranoid recently and had even seemed like he was up to something (Call did swear that his father was always up to something). But Alastair never told his son anything until he deemed it important. And whatever was going on, he did not think Call needed to know; if anything was truly going on that is.
"You're not going to tell me where we're going, are you?"
His father turned off the highway.
"Not yet. I'll tell you once we're done at our stop," Alastair responded, "don't take too long either. We have somewhere to be by one."
Call frowned, glancing at the numbers blinking on the vehicle's clock. It was almost 11:30.
An hour later, Call was brushing his hair in a gas station bathroom. He felt awkward wearing his nicest clothes: a dark grey collared shirt and a pair of nicer looking jeans. He rarely had any reason to wear this shirt. Normally it was for funerals that his father made him go to, even though they watched from a distance.
When he walked out of the front doors of the station, his father had Call's suitcase on the ground next to the car. Call felt himself panic: was his father going to just leave him at this gas station?
"Call come help me with this," Alastair called from the trunk. Obeying his father, he limped over. Alastair had a couple other things on the ground including a bag of Call's favorite snacks and drinks, his laptop bag, and a couple of Alastair's bags, "make sure all your stuff is packed in your bags. Make sure you have anything you need. I'll give you some money and continue sending you some throughout the school year, but I don't know when I'll be able to send anything."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Call asked, "The school year?"
"I'm dropping you off at your new school. You'll be going to where your mother and I graduated from," Alastair frowned at his son, "Thought you might do well finishing school with other students. Plus they won't expect me to hide you there. It's become more mixed since I went there, more normal people these days. So you should be able to be unnoticeable while I keep them distracted. They don't know your name anyways, just that you're with me, especially since I've kept your magic in check."
Whenever his father mentioned magic, Call always rubbed his obsidian bracelet his father had made him wear since his magic had appeared years ago. It helped dampen the energy his magic gave off when used and did not allow Call to use his magic as strongly as he could. It was a good way for Alastair to be able to safely teach Call everything he knew without attracting the wrong crowd or destroying things around him. As his father reminded him during their lessons: earth wants to bind.
Call watched his father pull out a bag of almost identical bracelets and he barely caught them when his father tossed them at him. Alastair gave him a weird look. With a frown, Call helped his father repack his bags. Once everything was back in the Rolls-Royce, Call watched the gas station fade into the distance.