Wiccan Act One: Occult

15 | Willow

Cyrus

XV

They failed.

The thought ran through Cyrus's head. Even after how hard they tried, the outcome remained the same.

He watched Veronica fish shivering, traumatized Christian out of the water, their screams entering one ear and exiting the next. It didn't matter that they experienced a horrific tragedy. It didn't matter that the police got there in a haste with their sirens and flashing lights, nor that the fire was now being put out by firefighters. It didn't matter that the paramedic treated his burns and wrapped him in a foil blanket.

The movie was over, roll the credits.

All the noise sounded distant as if static behind a brick wall. He allowed it to enter ears, drowning out the gasps, yells and chatter. His eyes landed on the man making his way over, ash falling on his tan uniform and badge beaming from all the lights.

"Cyrus." Sheriff Silva shooed away the paramedic inspecting him. In his hands, Cyrus made out a pen and paper. No doubt he wanted to know how they got here. Cyrus lost interest, noticing a gurney covered in a black plastic material being wheeled into the back of an ambulance, the outline of a body forming beneath.

"Cyrus." He tried again, voice cracking as Sheriff Silva's eyes collected water. A hole formed in Cyrus's chest, swallowing his heart.

"It's all my fault." His response was automatic, having uttered that to himself every day up to this point. "She's dead because of me."

"Cyrus, what happened?" He picked up the mixed tones in his voice. Anger, sadness, frustration, disbelief, all of which, giving Cyrus no clue how he would react next.

"We... We..." He attempted a sentence. "Christian fell in trying to help him."

"Did that kid do this to her?"

Cyrus ignored him. Did he?

"Christian just started screaming when he hit the water."

"Cyrus, I need to know what else you three saw, please. Anything to help us find who did this."

"We ran out of time."

"What?"

The ringing returned, the sheriff's voice going mute. For once, his head was empty. No thoughts, no worries, no questions. Someone had set a fire to the web he had gotten himself ensnared in.

"CYRUS, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!" Sheriff Silva shouted in his face, a few drops of saliva flying out. Cyrus didn't mind, he deserved it, but his outburst caught the attention of a few deputies, who immediately ran over to calm him down. They told Cyrus to take a walk to clear his head, and he complied.

Nothing else to do, right? Might as well.

His legs carried him wherever they wanted, dragging along the dirt inch by inch. If he waited long enough, maybe Aunt Rose would come to pick him up and take him away. Perhaps his dad would be on the first flight back to comfort him the way he used to. He wondered what they would think if he told them he was a witch and got a girl killed. Probably lock him up in an asylum.

Cyrus stopped when his feet nearly collided with someone's toes. He had wandered a little beyond the chaos where the boy he and Christian tried to save was standing. If he hadn't given in to helping him, Christian would have never had to see Hazel in such a state. It wasn't as if he wanted their help.

The boy also had a foil blanket around his shoulders.

"Did you see her?" His voice pulled Cyrus back into the situation, the blaring chatter nearly deafening him at their abrupt volume.