Cursed

35. Belle's Departure

Belle's Departure

Adrenaline ran plentifully through my veins as I ran to the manor gate. I had a small bag with a few of my acquired belongings stuffed haphazardly within and the lighter of my two cloaks slung over my shoulders. Beneath it were the more practical long sleeved T-shirt and jeans I had changed into for the journey. The night was not a cold one, considering, but the air still held a certain chill. I however, felt nothing but the adrenaline as I made for the horseless carriage that waited for me just outside the gate.

The heavy iron creaked as it swung on its ancient hinges and within moments I was peeking around the curtain to look through the window out at the forest I was speeding through. As I watched, Rose Manor disappeared ominously behind the trees as if it never existed. And I was filled with a certain jolt of longing. Then I remembered where I was heading and I pushed the strange feeling aside.

I was going home.

"Home," I repeated aloud. The word felt bitter on my tongue. What was wrong with me?

"You are going to see your father," I sternly admonished myself, "For heaven's sake, perk up." I couldn't seem to take my own advice. I wondered where my father could be. It had looked like a hospital butI could not for the life of me guess which. I had never had occasion to set foot in one in London or anywhere else in this country for that matter. Where would I go? Where could I begin my search?

I flew forward as the carriage came to a sudden stop and caught myself on the plush bench opposite me. A peak around the heavy velvet curtain revealed my arrival at the edge of town. Daurien's magic could only take me so far, I mused. Another wave of regret swept through me as I realized how far I would soon be from my friend. I shook my head to clear it and stepped out of the carriage, bag and cloak in hand.

I walked into the nearest commercial building with the lights still on. It was a homey cafe'. There was a guy who looked to be about my age lifting chairs up onto tables for washing the floor. The bell hanging above the door rang as I walked in.

"We are closed, sorry," he told me, barely sparing me a glance.

"I just need to charge my phone, if that's alright. It's kind of urgent."

"Go ahead, I guess," he shrugged, and then continued in afterthought," but you can't use the Wi-Fi. It's strictly for customers."

"That's fine, I just need to make a call. You wouldn't happen to have an Android charger, would you?" The guy rummaged in his apron pocket momentarily before handing me a white cable.

"Hey," he said, finally looking at me, "do I know you from somewhere?" I plugged my phone in to charge at a near socket, praying it would work. It hadn't had juice in months.

"I doubt it," I replied but the guy kept studying me curiously.

"You are incredibly familiar."

"I'm sorry, I don't recognize you at all." The guy shrugged in response, not taking offense. When he was finished stacking all o fthe chairs onto the tables, I watched him disappear behind a door marked 'STAFF ONLY.' And then I felt relief as my phone began to show the first signs of life.

"Oh shit!" I heard the guy curse and something plastic clatter to the floor. He came back out at a canter, clutching only a newspaper clipping which he thrust at me none too gently.

"You're the girl!"

"I'm certainly a girl..." I said as my eyes focused on a black and white photo of myself, one I knew had been taken by my father just a week before I had traded my own freedom for his.