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May 11th, 1994
I sat down at the table of my apartment, watching the news before I had to go for a night shift at The Cave, a bar famous in New York.
Time had changed me. I had matured, abandoning all past remnants of magic that had been instilled in me at birth. My hair had grown out, reaching my back and I fixed it while using my coffee mug as a tiny mirror of my reflection. The tv played as a white noise in the background of my chaotic morning routine.
"A family was massacred in Portland, Oregon last night on May 10th."
Immediately, it grabbed my attention. Judgment clouded my mind, as I tried to piece together what happened to the world's morals in recent years.
"Currently, there is reports of four fatalities and one in critical condition. The family chooses to remain anonymous with the names of each fatality. The oldest brother, known by the name of Malachai Parker, aged 22, is reported as missing at this time."
What?
I glanced, using my full attention to view the television screen, trying to see through the grainy lines of pixels.
"What... the fuck?"
Coincidentally, my telephone phone rings which pulls my attention from the television screen. "Amber?" it's my father, who I hadn't talked with since moving out.
There was a slight disagreement on me abandoning my abilities, which led to the separation of me from my parents. Mother viewed it as a gift to hold with value, while father viewed it as a power to practice for use. I viewed it as a curse. The thought of my parents was a subject I wasn't ready to confront.
His face was on the screen, dragging my attention from my father on the other line. He had grown as well, sporting a bright smile in a christmas photo. A girl, who I assumed was Josette, was blurred directly next to him. He looked... different, but that wasn't what truly caught my attention.
He's missing?
"Amber." my father repeated, drifting me back into the waves of reality and I made a hum noise to alert him of my returning presence in the call.
"The Gemini Coven..." he began, sighing before continuing, "they've suffered a great loss, have you heard?"
I scoffed, "The shit on the national television newscast? No, sorry haven't heard a peep."
"Amber, now's not the time for sarcasm," he quipped me, "they've reached out to me... to you, really, and are asking for assistance in cloaking a certain device."
Why me?
What device?
"Hmm, let me think..." I paused dramatically and exhaled, "no, they can deal with their own shit."
