Kiss me before become too late
Kiss me before become too late
When she finally managed to calm down, she wiped her tears with her sleeve. Then, she reached for the latch, slowly and deliberately. This time, her fingers knew exactly where to pull. She wasn’t thinking. She just let her fingers feel for the latch. It was like an invisible force was guiding her fingers, dictating the position and the exact force of pressure. A second later, and there it was: the opening, to the side of the desk. Mina quickly looked inside.
It was empty, the vast unoccupied space gaping at her violently. The book was gone. Someone else had it now. A million thoughts started swarming inside her mind, like angry wasps. Were they looking for the book? Was that what they came for? If they got the book, why would they take Kellam, too? Unless…
But, she didn’t want to go there right now. It was crucial for her to believe that Kellam was alive. For all she knew, he was. Why would anyone kill him, then take his body? It didn’t make any sense. Someone had hurt him badly, hence the blood, but he was still alive and taken away somewhere. This meant that she still had the chance to bring him back, to save him, just like he would save her if their roles were reversed.
And, the book… she needed to get it back. If it fell into the wrong hands, who knew what might happen. She shuddered at the very thought of Malleus Maleficarum, otherwise known as The Witch’s Hammer, being out there, unguarded. Its power was immense. Only someone worded in the ancient knowledge of witchcraft would know what to do with it.
Mina got up and slowly walked out of the house. There was nothing left for her here.
The answers were out there and she needed to find them before it was too late.
As Mina stepped out of her brother’s home, all sorts of thoughts kept swarming inside her mind. Was Kellam still alive? Was all this worth it? Who had the book now and, more importantly, what did they need it for? She didn’t have an answer to any of those questions but it didn’t matter. She was going to find her brother, dead or alive, no matter what. Quickly, she shooed those thoughts away, like a nasty swarm of flies, and headed back to the garage. She pressed the little button, cleverly disguised to resemble just an ordinary nail, and the heavy door rolled up before her, allowing her in.
Kellam’s motorcycle was still there. The thought of having ridden by his side so many times before, brought unexpected warmth around her heart, but that warmth was chilled immediately upon being brought back to reality, and the realization of what just happened. She couldn’t afford to take a trip down memory lane right now. The clock was ticking.
She rummaged through his rucksack, which was lying carefully in the corner of the garage. A few seconds later, she found what she was looking for. She knew Kellam had two phones. One he always had on him, and another one, which was in his backpack, he used for emergencies only. The password to Kellam’s phone was the same as it had always been. Their mother’s birthday. She typed in the bittersweet date and the phone unlocked. She searched for a certain number and dialed it immediately.
“Yeah?” a voice replied, speaking quietly, so she was barely able to hear him.
“Meet me at the Barracuda in a half an hour,” she gave clear and direct orders to the
person on the other end of the line.
“But, wait, I can’t, I’m at the…”
She didn’t allow that someone to finish. She quickly hung up and pocketed Kellam’s phone. She sat on his motorcycle, adjusted her helmet, threw his backpack on her back, and pressed the gas pedal so hard that the whole garage immediately filled up with smoke.
She had to be careful, she knew that. Getting to the Barracuda bar, without getting pulled over by the cops would be a challenge. However, it would be a challenge she was more than willing to take. Being underage and riding a motorcycle like a madman, or madwoman in this case, wouldn’t work in her favor, especially since she was heading to a bar. So, she made sure to go through smaller streets and keep a low profile. About twenty minutes later, she squeezed the brake with a loud screech, in front of an old, worn-down building on the outskirts of the city.
The heavy door was already open. She checked her watch. It wasn’t even noon but she was sure that there were already enough people inside to make it look like it was five o’clock. Like someone once said, it’s always five o’clock somewhere.