I’m right on the verge of a panic attack, my heart racing and my breath coming in shallow gasps, when someone clears their throat loudly somewhere off to my left. The sound is so out of place amidst the chaos that it pulls me right out of my spiraling thoughts. Lukas whirls around instantly, his grip on me tightening protectively as I’m pulled along in the motion. I blink at the sight of… A taxi? The car is unnervingly silent. The driver has his window rolled down, and he’s leaning an elbow casually out of it, as if he hasn’t just stumbled upon the most bizarre scene of the century. How did I not hear this thing pull up? It’s right next to us, but I swear I didn’t hear a single thing.
“Unless you have a better plan, I might suggest you get in.” The driver says calmly, his tone casual in a way that feels completely at odds with the situation. Lukas doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a fraction of a second. He yanks the back door of the taxi open with one hand, the other still wrapped tightly around me. Then, before I can even register what’s happening, he practically throws me into the backseat. I land with a graceless thud, half sprawled across the seat. Not waiting for me to settle in, Lukas clambers in after me, basically shoving me further into the car to make space for himself. His movements are rushed but he’s careful not to totally crush me which I appreciate. The door isn’t even fully closed when the car jerks forward, the sudden acceleration slamming me back against the seat. The tires screech slightly as the driver tears away from the curb, the force pinning us into place.
The next few minutes are weirdly quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos we just escaped. No one speaks. Lukas and I are both trying to catch our breaths, and the driver seems perfectly content to focus on speeding along like he hasn’t just plucked us out of complete disaster. I can feel the vibrations of the taxi beneath me, the steady hum of the engine oddly soothing as exhaustion drags me further under. At some point, Lukas shifts me. His movements are careful but firm as he maneuvers me from being slumped awkwardly against the side of the seat to lying down properly across the back seat. My head ends up resting on his lap. It’s a little too intimate for someone who spends most of their time trying to reject his constant flirting, but I’m too tired to care. He keeps one hand on my shoulder, and even though I can’t see him, I can feel his attention focused on me. He’s probably nosing around in my head again.
“Just keeping an eye on you. Making sure you’re well.” He mutters softly. His voice is low, almost soothing, and it answers the question I hadn’t consciously asked. His ability to pick up on my thoughts feels less invasive right now and more like an odd kind of reassurance. I suppose, in this moment, I don’t mind. It’s not like I have the energy to hide anything anyway. Still, the idea of him having free access to my thoughts tugs at the edges of my mind. Most people probably start obsessing over the exact things they don’t want him to know as soon as they realise he’s reading them. Embarrassing moments, random insecurities, or the one thing they swore they’d never admit. I don’t think I have any of those… Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
But the problem is, as soon as I think about not thinking about something, my brain latches onto the very thing I don’t want him to hear. Damn it, Clare. Stop. Just stop. Now his reading my thoughts suddenly DOES feel invasive again. But it’s too late. My thoughts have already shifted, to the last REAL conversation I had with my mother other than making polite niceties a few times a year. The one conversation that I try not to replay but can’t quite forget. Her words echo in my mind. ‘You should leave if that’s what you really want. You’ll never be a talented witch anyway. You lack discipline. You might as well go pretend to be human.’ Even now, the memory stings, not because she said it, I’d expected as much, but because part of me believed it. The worst part wasn’t walking away from that life, it was that I hadn’t truly chosen to leave. I hadn’t stood my ground or made a bold decision for myself like I tell everyone. I’d just… Failed. Failed to meet her expectations. Failed to be the kind of person my family wanted. I’ve told myself over and over again that I’m happy now, that I’m better off, but the truth is more complicated. I DO like the life I’ve built for myself, the freedom, the independence. I’m definitely happier and more myself. But every time I think back to that conversation, it chips away at the confidence I work so hard to project. My pink hair, my bold clothes, my sassy attitude, they’re all just distract other people from noticing how utterly, painfully average I feel underneath it all. And now Lukas knows. I can feel the weight of his silence and that just makes it worse. He’s still holding my shoulder gently, like nothing’s changed, but I know better. I’m sure he’s heard every humiliating detail of my inner spiral, and I swear to myself that if he says anything about it, I’m going to… I don’t know, set his shoes on fire or something. That would show him. I’m only thinking all this because I’m exhausted anyway. I’ll feel better once I’ve rested. For now, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on pretending none of this happened. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll have the decency to keep his mouth shut.
Lukas clears his throat, and for half a second, I’m horrified, thinking he’s going to comment on my earlier thoughts. My stomach twists, bracing for him to say something about my mother, my insecurities, or any of the embarrassing things he’s no doubt picked up from my mind. But instead, he addresses the driver.
“Not that I don’t appreciate your help, because I do, but who are you? And why did you just happen to show up at the perfect moment? I don’t really believe in coincidences like that.” Lukas says, his tone sharp but measured. His suspicion is understandable. Even in my half conscious state, I realise how weirdly convenient this whole thing is. Although to be fair, I didn’t actually notice until Lukas pointed it out. Blame my exhaustion. The driver, unbothered by Lukas’s pointed question, hums lightly as if considering his response. Finally, he answers, his voice calm and almost cheerful.
“Well, that’s because my turning up was entirely intentional. I’ve been watching that family of yours.” He begins, glancing at Lukas in the rearview mirror.
“I’ve got… Suspicions about a necromancer being in these parts. Been trying to piece things together, and every lead keeps pointing me back to that family of yours.” He says casually. Lukas stiffens, his entire posture going rigid beneath me. I feel it through the arm he still has firmly on my shoulder. While it’s nice to have some explanation for the miraculous timing, the implications of what Cole just said aren’t exactly comforting. If this guy knows about Lukas’s family’s involvement, it’s only a matter of time before someone else does too. And if the wrong people find out, things could go from bad to catastrophic very quickly.
“Who are you, really?” Lukas demands, his voice hardening. There’s an edge to his tone now, a harsh one that I’m not realising I’ve rarely heard from him. I tilt my head back slightly to glance at his face, his expression is calm, but his eyes are sharp, practically boring into the back of the driver’s head.
“My name is Cole.” The driver replies easily, his tone as casual as if we were talking about the weather.
“And I’m no one in particular. Just… Worried about a friend.” He responds. A friend? That’s vague as hell. Lukas’s suspicion seems to deepen, but he doesn’t press further, likely realising we’re not in a position to argue or demand more answers right now. I can feel his frustration radiating off him. I expect we will discuss this entire encounter in detail later. Cole, meanwhile, doesn’t seem remotely bothered by our distrust. He pulls up in front of my house without asking for directions, which, now that I think about it, is unsettling. He never asked where I lived. How does he know? He’s clearly been keeping tabs on us, and I don’t like it one bit.