Before the Clock Strikes Twelve [Book I of the Anti-Tales]

Chapter 9: Of Apples and Mysteries

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Evening settled over the city, bathing it in shades of orange and pink, splashed with deep teal and jade to the horizon. Gradually, the canvas of the sky was painted in colours of twilight, a time of day that was neither day nor night. You could not tell if it was sunset or sunrise. Stars peeked out, twinkling witnesses to the change of time. It felt a lot like magic.

The soft glowing light reached Lynx as she sat perched by her bedroom window. It warmed her face as the dying light of the sun receded further beneath the horizon. As she closed her eyes, the wind dipped and whistled last her ears. Carrying the faint thrum of a tune, something whimsical and familiar that called to her. It resonated deep within her soul.

James was downstairs seeing off the last of his men, when Lynx brushed past him. Dressed in her red cloak, she walked hastily down the front steps. He blinked slowly for a second, before coming to his senses and grabbing her off the road. She shrugged him off and continued on her one tracked progress.

"Lynx? What the hell?" He grabbed her again and spun her to face him. "Where are you going?"

She looked as if right through him, so blank and empty was her gaze, that it unsettled him greatly. "The forest calls." She replied in monotone, as if on autopilot. Her eyes glazed over as if she wasn't really there.

"Okay. And now you sound as batshit crazy as Ivory. Splendid." He sighed, brushing a hand through his unruly black locks.

Lynx shrugged him off and continued on her endeavour. James frowned before throwing her over his shoulder and returning to the shop. Every time he let her go, she would get up and try to leave her home. No protests, fighting, kicking or screaming. Just empty minded determination. She reminded him of a stubborn mule. Going about it's work with a tenacity that made him question if it even had its own will. She seemed to be a woman possessed. By her one lone thought: "The forest calls."

The sentence was driving him insane.

For the hundredth time since the sun had set, James gripped her by her shoulders, and turned her back to the consultancy room. He placed her on the sofa opposite and crouched in front of her.

"The-"

"Yes, yes, the forest calls." He interrupted with an exasperated sigh. "I get it. Believe me."

He waved his hand in front of her eyes. "No, not possession." He furrowed his brows in thought. Something about her behaviour called to a distant memory. One he thought he had buried the hatchet on. One so long forgotten, he had almost thought of it as a dream of a dream. "Hypnosis." He realised, and a bitter taste erupted in his mouth like rising bile.

James let out a pained groan, he hoped he was wrong. He was tired. It was nearing the witching hour. He had to protect the house and make sure she stayed put. Whatever was going on, was beyond his expertise and skill. It seemed the little mage had gone and got herself influenced to near possession, hypnosis if he was correct. When and where that had happened, he could only speculate.

"You know, you're a lot more tolerable as a foul mouthed mage, than a brainless idiot." He told the unfazed Lynx who stared at him with all the intelligence of a rock.

Looking around, James saw some red leather cords pooled into a coil at the foot of the door. His men must have left the extras. He swiped it and returned to hash Lynx's hands together. He secured them behind her back and left her to bump around the room while he locked up and laced the doorways with protective enchantments.

"There." James grinned with satisfaction as he bolted the new front door. It was heavy duty and reinforced with black metal beams. "Try enter now." He smirked to himself, proud of the work the boys had put in.

He was just returning to the consultancy room, when something caught his eyes. Placed on the brand new marble counter stood a bag, grease stains darkening the paper. Pecan maple pastry. James grinned. "Don't mind if I do."

He swiped it from the counter, pulled out the flaky baked good and took a mammoth bite. "Not bad crazy-Annie, not bad." Though he wasn't exactly sure when the weird dog lover had popped over, he was glad he'd missed her amongst the hustle and bustle of the remodelling.

The smile faded off his face as his throat began to close up, and his tongue became thick and fuzzy in his mouth, it suddenly felt heavy like led. While the inside of his throat burned and itched.

"What the-" he choked, dropping the rest to the floor as he scratched at his neck. It was on fire.

The clock struck twelve.

James dropped to the floor.

Lynx burst through the beaded curtains in a flurry of skirts and a tangle of clumsy legs. She tumbled head over heels and sprawled onto the floor beside James. Her bound hands left her with nothing to catch herself with, and her face greeted his buttocks.

Lynx shrieked, mortified, "what the hell is going on?" She gasped, struggling to get to her knees. "Why am I trussed up like a Christmas turkey?" She nudged James with the toe of her boot. "James?" She stood cautiously over his unmoving figure.

She rolled him onto his back with her foot. His eyes were rolled back into his head, blank white. She screamed. He lay utterly still.

"Please done be dead."

The scent of apples filled the air.

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