Far Too Young To Die: An Astraea Renata Novel

by Wayne, Douglas

  I nodded, took a drink, and started. “For starters, every living thing in the world transmits an energy. Think of it like car emissions. In order for life to happen that energy has to seep into the air. I can tap into that power to do the things I can do.”

  “Like your healing power?”

  I nodded. “And a few other things.”

  “Does it hurt the people you draw that energy from?”

  “Not usually,” I said. “For the most part, I can draw more than enough from out of the air. There are witches that can specifically target the auras of people. I’m not one of them, so I can’t tell you how it works.”

  “I kinda understand, but how did you see my soul?”

  “One of my spells,” I said. It was one of the first I learned shortly after I turned twelve. My mom showed it to me when my golden retriever, Buster, was very sick. Mom insisted that there was nothing we could do for the dog as he was just very old, but I didn’t believe her and begged her to take Buster to the vet. I was just sure there was something they could do to save him.

  Right then, as I screamed at her to put Buster in the car, she sat me down on the couch where I had my first lesson. She insisted there wasn’t much time, that I had to get it right the first time as there might not be enough time to do it again. Like a natural, I nailed it, but I wasn’t prepared to see the near black shadow holding onto his body by little more than a thread.

  “In a normal, healthy body, the spirit inside the body is a light gray or even white. The spirits of those close to death is much darker, with the spirit being dark gray then finally black when the being passes.”

  “What color was my spirit last night.”

  “Damn near black.”

  “Wow. Guess it’s a good thing you showed up when you did.”

  “Yeah. You would’ve been long gone by the time the paramedics showed up.” I finished my coffee and placed the cup on the table. He offered to get me another, but I turned him down. As much as I enjoyed sitting with him, drinking coffee, I was here for something else. “I’m not trying to intrude, but… who wants you dead?”

  “I’d call that intrusion.” He sat up and placed his cup on the table. “It doesn’t matter who they are.”

  I leaned forward and instinctively reached for his hand, only to pull it back once I realized what I was doing. “I can help you.”

  “Look, I appreciate you saving my life. But I’m afraid you wasted your time. The people who tried to kill me will do it again the second they realized they failed. Next time, it won’t be as clean.”

  “Tell me who wants you dead,” I pleaded. “I’ll do what I can to make sure they don’t.”

  “I appreciate the concern.” He stood up and walked towards the front door. “But there isn’t anything you can do. Just leave and let me die in peace.”

  I stood up and walked to him, desperately wanting to say something, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. Emotionally I was torn between wanting to keep him alive and wanting to respect his wishes to leave. Both sides were fighting a vicious battle in my soul and neither side was gaining any ground.

  The sound of a loud truck driving down the street put the battle on hold.

  Aiden’s eyes widened, and he locked the door. “You have to get out of here,” he said, taking a few steps back. “They’re here.”

  - 7 -

  I moved in and pulled back the curtain to get a look outside. On the curb, not far from where I’d parked my car, was a large black truck nearly twice the size of mine, though most of the size difference came from the lift kit they had clearly installed. There were three men in the truck, all wearing black clothes and slid on black ski masks before getting out of the car. Each of them pulled out a pistol from their pants as they walked towards the front door.

  “These the people you are worried about?” I said, letting the curtain go.

  “All signs point to yes.” He grabbed my hand and led me back towards the kitchen. “Get out of here.”

  “Not without you.” I jerked my hand free before we stepped into the kitchen. “I can handle three redneck thugs. Be like another night at the bar.”

  “If they find you here, they’ll kill you too. These aren’t nice people, Ast. They are the type of people who don’t take no for an answer. The type of people who will hunt down everyone you care about, just to get to you. You don’t want to get any more involved than you already are.” He took a deep breath and our eyes met. “Trust me.”

  “I’m the type of girl who has been pushed around by bullies like that all my life. When I learned I could do the things I can do, I vowed never to back down from them ever again.” I smiled and reached for his hand, which he offered willingly. “If they want you, they have to take me too.”

  He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything one thug tried to open the door. Instead, he put a finger up to his lips, gripped my hand tightly, and lead me to the back door. He moved a garbage can away from the door and opened it, trying not to make a noise as he did. When the first gunshot rang out, sending an echo through the immaculate house, he dropped that plan, nearly ripping the door off the hinges as he pulled it open.

  We stepped out onto the back patio which was as wide as the front porch though easy had double the floor space. There was a glass table right outside the door surrounded by a half dozen padded steel chairs. Across the patio, just a few feet from the stairs was a large stainless steel barbecue grill, complete with an attached smoker that sat lower than the actual grill. The cook in me begged to ask him where he found it and how much he paid, but as the front door slammed open, I decided now wasn’t the time.

  Aiden ran around the table and past the grill to the stairs, stopping only when he’d noticed I hadn’t joined him. “What are you doing?” he said at just over a whisper.

  “Buying us some time.” I pushed the wooden door shut, holding the handle open, so it didn’t make a click when it closed. When the door shut, I let the handle go slowly and then got to work. “Decoco,” I whispered. A red-orange flame formed on my fingertips. I placed my hand back on the handle and blew on my fingers, causing the brass knob to sizzle, smoke, and glow white hot as I fused the metal pins inside. After a moment, I released the flow of magic through my fingers and released my grip on the knob which continued to glow for a moment after my hand was off of it. I hoped it wasn’t as visible as it was on the other side of the door, otherwise I might as well have advertised what direction we went.

  I took a step away from the door and pushed the metal screen back in place, holding the release button on the handle as I closed it. The door clicked ever so slightly as I released the handle.

  Inside the house, I heard the footfalls of the people inside, scouring the house looking for Aiden. Two sets of footsteps were moving away from me, but one got close.

  “Ast!” Aiden whispered as he signaled to the kitchen window. His head slowly descended below the porch and I dove off to the side yet keeping close enough to the house that anyone inside wouldn’t be able to see me.

  The footsteps got close to the wall, stopping when they were close. With my back up against the white siding, I could almost feel the thug’s breath against the kitchen window. I steadied my breathing as I sat there, even though my nerves were wanting to scream.

  Across the patio I caught the reflection of the thug on the stainless steel grill. His head was in the middle of the window, looking out across the yard as if looking for something. His head went down and then forward, like he was looking at something. Then it registered in my brain like a lightning bolt striking a tree. He was looking at me.

  “Shit,” I said, getting to my feet. I ran across the porch, sticking to the wall. Inside the house I heard the man at the window yell something followed by his footfalls heading towards the back door.

  This was my only chance. If I was going to get out of there in one piece, I had to do it now, while he was trying to open the back door. The only problem was that the stairs were well in their lin
e of fire.

  I reached the patio railing and got a good look at the concrete paving bricks and disassembled motorcycle below. There wasn’t anything soft to jump down on, but going back to the other side of the house wasn’t an option anymore.

  More gunshots went off behind me, so I climbed over the railing. The ground was easily ten feet below meaning the fall wouldn’t necessarily be fatal, but if I didn’t land just right I’d easily break my leg or sprain my ankle. I may have an athletic build and look like I’m in good shape, the truth is I wasn’t ready for the jump. Neither mentally or physically. But, when the back door flew open, I bucked up and jumped, aiming my body outward to avoid the motorcycle.

  I landed about ten feet away from the house with a thud though I attempted to roll at the end like I’d seen people do on those parkour videos on YouTube. Instead of rolling to my feet, I ended up kneeing myself in the eye so hard, I’d have to double up on eye shadow for the next week to hide the inevitable black eye that would be there by the end of the night.

  Aiden rushed over and helped me to my feet. My knees and ankles screamed from the impact. I tried to run, but ended up screaming in pain as my left leg gave out. I would’ve ended up face first on the paving stones again, but Aiden caught me long before it happened.

  “Easy there,” he said, helping me up again. “Did you break it?” He pointed to my foot.

  “Don’t think so,” I said, grunting as I put my weight on it again. “Don’t think I can walk on it though.”

  He flashed me a smile. “And here I thought you were the one coming to rescue me.”

  “That was the idea. Not really thought out in retrospect.” I pointed to my car parked in the road. “My car is right there.” I reached into my purse and held up my keys.

  “Guess that’s better than mine in the garage.” He got down on a knee in front of me. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to make today even more awkward.”

  Before I could ask how, he pulled my arm down, causing me to double over. He then stood up, placing my abs on his shoulder and lifted me in the air like a sack of potatoes. I couldn’t help but to smile at the twist of fate that had me being carried across the beautifully manicured lawn to my car to escape three men who had broken into his house, presumably to kill him.

  My moment of glee was short lived as I noticed a masked head poking around the side of the house. “Run!” I yelled, as if it would make him run any faster. But, amazingly his pace quickened.

  We ran by the lifted truck and I uttered the word, “deflate,” as we passed. Within a matter of seconds, every tire on the truck lost its air, causing the truck to fall onto its fancy chrome rims.

  Aiden ran around to the driver’s side of my car, opened the rear door, and knelt down, allowing me to slide inside. He shut the door and got in the front, where I handed him the keys. He started the car as the three armed men stormed out of the front door. All three of them leveled their pistols at the car as we drove away, but thankfully they never fired a shot. I guess they didn’t want to risk causing any more of a scene, especially as their truck sat along the curb with four flat tires.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. When the operator answered I told her about an armed burglary in process and gave her Aiden’s address. She asked if I was in the house and I told her no. Instead, I told her I’d been driving by and saw the three thugs standing just outside of the house, each with a gun in his hand. I also made sure to tell her they were in a truck that may or may not have had four flat tires. In any case, she assured me police were on the way and thanked me for my call.

  “Well that was easy,” I said as I placed the phone back in my purse. It felt odd sitting in the back seat of my car, or any car for that matter. The last time I sat in one was about ten years ago when I still lived with my parents.

  “Do I need to take you to get that looked at?” he asked when he noticed me rubbing my sore ankle.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Must be nice to be able to heal yourself like that.”

  “Doesn’t work like that,” I said though I wished it did. Whoever blessed me with the ability apparently thought it would be funny if my amazing healing powers didn’t work on myself. Or any spirit based magics for that matter. I suspected it had to do with my ability to view the soul of another person. Just that ability alone would give me an unfair advantage over the rest of humanity. The ability to guarantee I maximize my time on this planet. You can just imagine how huge it would be to watch even the smallest fluctuations in my body and do something about it. At the first sign of a cold I’d shoot a blast of spirit into my lungs and bloodstream killing the bug before it set in. Or use it to reduce the swelling in my ankle after I had to jump off an elevated deck.

  “Besides.” I wiggled my foot in a full circle though holding back groans of pain as I did. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

  He gave me a look like he was begging me to at least go to an urgent care, but I shook my head to emphasize my point.

  “If you won’t get that looked at, where do we go now? Not like you are going to let me go back home.”

  “Well,” I said, flashing some teeth of my own, “since you were a peach and made me coffee, how about I spring for breakfast.”

  “Not sure how I feel about letting a pretty girl like you pay on our first date.”

  “Who said it was a date?” I teased.

  He snorted and asked, “so where are we going?”

  - 8 -

  We drove into Atlanta and settled on a little mom and pop diner a few blocks from my house named Ethyl’s. It was one of those high grease content places that bellowed the smell of lard three blocks around it. It wasn’t the type of place a girl, intent on maintaining her wonderful figure should’ve been eating, which is exactly why I loved the place. As bad as it is for you, lard and fat makes things taste a thousand times better. One of these days, I knew my eating habits would catch up to me, but figured as long as I didn’t turn into a human slug, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

  Aiden, apparently trying to be modest, settled on a single order of biscuits and gravy and a small coffee. You can just imagine the look on his face when I ordered a large slinger with bacon and sausage with a side of hash browns on top complete with a large Diet Pepsi.

  You know, to retain my figure.

  “You really going to eat all of that?” he asked, as our waitress walked away.

  “I was raised with four older brothers. You learn early that if you want to eat, you get what you want from the start. Odds are, there wasn’t going to be anything left when they get done with it.” My parents always thought they were making more than enough food for us, but it always seemed like the more they made, the more we ate. Even today if you were to see any of us on the streets you would never know we were human garbage disposals as children.

  To be fair, two of my brothers ended up being personal trainers and another a doctor, so they had ulterior motives to maintaining a healthy weight. Jack and I were the exceptions who ended up in the food service industry in one form or another. He ended up taking a job as a sous chef at a restaurant in Seattle and I ended up owning a bar.

  “My parents wouldn’t have dreamed of letting me eat like that. They were health nuts. If I’d even thought about ordering something like that, I’d spend the next month running on the treadmill for an hour or two a day, on a strict diet of whole grain bread and low fat preserves.”

  “Sounds like you had a lovely childhood,” I said, taking my Diet Pepsi from the server.

  “Couldn’t have been any worse than growing up with four older brothers.”

  “It wasn’t too bad. You learn to defend yourself after a few years. Then once you have their respect, you have four bruisers ready to beat anyone who messed with you to a pulp.”

  “Guess you didn’t have too many boyfriends growing up,” he said with a smirk, as he took a sip of his black coffee.

  “I had a couple. But yeah, none that stuck around.”

>   “I bet. Can’t imagine knocking on your door to see all four of them answering.”

  “Can’t forget dad,” I added. “He’d be standing behind the four of them holding his shotgun. It wasn’t loaded, but it served its purpose.”

  “If I saw that, I’d turn around and run.”

  “They did. Then spent the rest of high school trying to avoid eye contact with me.” As much as I disliked that part of my childhood, I didn’t want to deal with boys anyway. I knew when I got older there would still be plenty of good ones still around to pick from. I spent most of my free time learning how to use my powers. Apparently each of the women in my family have all become fairly powerful witches over time. There’s never been any proof that our magic gets passed from one generation to the next, but our family is clearly the shining beacon of truth. Thanks to websites like Ancestry.com, I’m able to trace my family tree back at least ten generations. Every woman on a branch above mine ended up being a witch of one variety or another.

  A few minutes later our server approached our table with our order. Aiden watched my plate with a bit of jealous rage as she placed the large heaping mess in front of me. Compared, his single order of biscuits and gravy looked like an appetizer. A puny one at that.

  “Want some?” I asked, pushing my plate forward.

  “It didn’t sound good until I saw her bring it up.”

  I chuckled. “Never does.”

  He scraped off some of my chili smothered goodness onto his plate, careful not to cover his biscuits. Once he finished, I pulled back my plate to watch his face as he took his first sloppy bite.

  “Wow, it is good.”

  “Life lesson. If a down-home southern girl orders something, it’s probably as good as it sounds.”

  He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I took a few bites of my food, carefully considering my next question. While it seemed like I was the one needing help, with my sprained ankle and all, he was the one I was here to save. And to do that, I needed to know exactly what we were dealing with. Instead of fussing over a line that would need to be perfectly worded to make any sense, I settled for an old fashioned standby.