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The Prophecy of the Trio by GinnyFan1
Chapter 3 : Chapter 2: Erasers
 
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Chapter 2: Erasers
 

Weeks of training had paid off; I was stronger, faster, smarter, more agile, and tougher. I’d learned many things, including things about who I was supposed to be.

                When we had finally reached the final weeks of July, I received a text message from my friend Matthew. It read:

                Hey! Party 2morro nite @ 6. ends at 2. U in?

                I laughed. Matthew was an easygoing guy. He probably sent this text message to everyone at our middle school. I replied:

                Sure. I’ll be there.

                Wait for it…

                Btzzz! Btzzz!

                Coolio!

                Matthew never failed to reply.

 

                As I was getting ready for the party, Catherine and Anson announced that they were going out (they had no idea about Doc being anything more than my doctor, nor me being a witch and someone else’s daughter) to dinner with the Parkers, our neighbors. I bid them goodbye and promised to be home by one.

                Minutes after they pulled out, a sleek blue car pulled into my driveway. The sound of the door unlocking reached my ears, and Jeb came in.

                “Ginevra?” he called (he always referred to me by my real name, unless Anson and Catherine were there).

                “In my room!” I replied. Jeb entered, seeing me dressed in an indigo v-neck, jeans, and a jean jacket, my hair pulled back.

                “Going somewhere?”

                “Yeah, Matthew’s having a party.”

                “Ah,” Jeb said in a disapproving tone.

                “What?”

                “Have we not already discussed the odd things happening? You shouldn’t be going out,” he told me.

                To be honest, Jeb had a point.

***

 

       I felt sick.

       I’d been at the party for two hours and had felt queasy ever since I’d arrived. My friends kept trying to cheer me up, but my right arm felt like it was on fire and my headache was murderous.

       My friend Emma, who was like my sister, grabbed my shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

       I mumbled something incoherently and stumbled through the crowd. I ran into someone, muttering an apology when I looked into his face.

                He looked thirty-ish, had short, dark hair and a rough-looking face. He was wearing a suit and a Bluetooth, his piercing, gray-blue eyes analyzing me.

                He smiled a smile that sent chills down my spine. “Hello, Ginevra. Nice to have finally found you.”

                Oh no.

                Feeling a rush of adrenaline, I knocked him down and ran through the yard. I reached the deserted pool area, whipped out my phone, and called Jeb.

                “They found me,” was all I said before hanging up. I then smashed my phone, making it so no information would be easily found.

                Several shouts reached my ears before I was knocked to the ground. Rough, hard hands grabbed me and dunked me in the pool. I fought against them, trying to resurface, but they were too strong. They kept me underwater, and I heard their deep voices vibrating through the water.

                I have to get out, was my only thought when, all of a sudden, a bright flash of red light erupted from my hands and knocked the men over, making them release me. I burst out of the water, gasping for air, and ran past the men. I jumped over the back fence and went around the house. A blue car waited in the driveway.

                “Get in,” Jeb snapped. I leapt into the passenger seat and barely closed the door when he took off.

                I winced, now aware of the burning pain in my right forearm. I ripped off my sopping wet jacket and gasped at what I saw:

                My skin seemed to be cutting itself open, like an invisible knife was being dragged across my arm. When it finished, the blood disappeared and the new cut glowed, aging into a pink scar. The scar was of three intersecting circles.

                “Jeb…” I started, but was cut off. My headache had grown and now images, sounds, and feelings all flashed through my mind.

                “YOU KILLED YOUR OWN BROTHER!”

 

                “Mind over matter…”

 

                “Let’s finish this the way we started…together.”

 

                A pale, beautiful man with golden eyes and bronze hair…

 

                Messy black hair that couldn’t be tamed…

 

                The dry feeling of a smoke-filled throat…

 

                “FRED!”

 

                Flames…

 

                The deafening sound of an explosion…

 

                Feeling his wolf form’s powerful muscles tear through the forest ground, trying to hang onto his slicked back, soaked fur…

 

                A bright flash of green light…

                A beautiful pair of emerald eyes…

 

                I was snapped back to the present.

                “What didn’t you tell me?” I shouted at Jeb.

                He took a deep breath, eyes glued to the road. “Remember that day, when I told you that you were the subject of a prophecy? Well, that scar is your mark of the prophecy. The others are a sword and a lightning bolt. In the prophecy, there are three ‘powers’ and three ‘heroes’. The powers are the three people trying to kill you: Mariann Jensen, Tom Riddle, and Jane. The three heroes are Kyra Jameson, Harry Potter, and…you.

                “Now, you are very special. You know all that has been and all that will be (where it concerns you and people you’re involved with). However, you cannot tell anyone. I am the exception. If you told anyone else, it would screw everything up. You can try to change the course of things (it may not always work), but no one else can. You may give someone hints, pointing them in the right direction, though it may cause you extreme pain. But, if you give anything away…you will die.

                “You may have sudden visions from time to time, when you aren’t searching for answers. Now, though, while you are inexperienced and cannot control it, you will have what we call ‘outbursts’. They are visions that are projected so everyone else can see. It’s inconvenient, but it won’t count against you, as outbursts don’t usually expose crucial information, just things that make sense to you. Besides, you can’t control it.”

                “You talk about all of this like it’s some kind of game,” I snapped.

                “It is, in a way. It’s like… chess. You have several minor targets in order to get to the main target, before your rival gets to you. In this case, Jane is the king, Tom Riddle is the queen, and Mariann Jensen is a bishop. Big targets leading to the main target. Targets with power and a thirst for your blood.”

                “Who are Jane, Mariann Jensen, and Tom Riddle?” I asked.

                “The answers are all in your head. However, you will meet them all in time.”

                I didn’t look for the answers, and we didn’t speak for the rest of the car ride.

                After half an hour had passed, we reached the field. The same field Jeb had taken me to a year ago to meet Erik. A man stood in the field, just like before, but it wasn’t Erik.

                “Wait!” shouted the figure, raising what looked like a wand. “What was the last thing Jeb Batchelder told our family before taking my sister?”

                “’She’ll be everything we could hope for and more. You’ll see her again, I promise,’” Jeb told him without missing a beat.

                The man lowered his wand and walked up to meet us under the street light. He had dancing blue eyes, a freckly face, strong build, and red hair. Scars and burns decorated his body, but they couldn’t draw attention away from his smile, which seemed like it could outshine the sun.

                He raked his eyes over me, saying, “Are you Ginevra?” I nodded.

                “I’m your big brother, Charlie. I’m the second oldest of your six older brothers…” he trailed off. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but suddenly we were hugging and laughing and crying tears of joy at the fact that we were reunited.

                When we let go of each other, Jeb said, “Alright, Charlie, take her on foot to where Bill’s waiting, okay?”

                Charlie nodded.

                Jeb departed minutes later, saying he would drop off necessities at my house later. Charlie waved, then led me by the hand down the road.

                We made small talk. He asked about my foster family and friends. He told me about his job and our family. When I told him about Uncle Charlie, Kyra, and Mr. Alec, he froze.

                “Charles Jameson is…dead?” he choked out. I nodded solemnly.

                I forgot to mention that to you guys, huh?

                “Uncle Charlie was murdered five months ago,” I explained. “They found his body unharmed and his eyes open. He went out to lunch with an old colleague of his and never came back. His body was found in the alley behind the restaurant.”

                “Killing Curse,” Charlie and I breathed in unison.

                We walked for a minute in silence, when Charlie asked, “Do you know what the colleague’s name was?”

                I shook my head and Charlie sighed. Suddenly, he stopped.

                “Do you hear that?”

                I listened. A deep growling sounded behind us. We turned around to see eyes glinting in the darkness. Large, dark haired men came toward us.

                Slowly, they began to change.

                Muzzles formed where their mouths and noses one were; fur grew, dark and thick, covering their entire bodies.

                They weren’t werewolves. No, they were much more horrible than that.

                Erasers.

                The word floated in my mind, labeling the creatures in front of me. Horrible lab experiments, that’s what they were. Part wolf, part human. They were made in that illegal lab that Jeb spied on for us.

                They were trained to kill their targets. I was a target.


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