Fan Fiction ❯ Caitlin ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

A short one… only 3 pgs long, but the next and subsequent chapters are much longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

::Chapter 3::

 

I dreamt of my father. He stood several feet in front of me, wearing his usual black suit-red tie combination. He smiled gently at me and bade me come forward. I stared at him in disbelief at seeing him as I walked towards him.

 

"Papa?" His thick black hair was slicked back and his fiery dark eyes, so much like my own, regarded me with joy and happiness as he enveloped me in his arms.

 

He brought me into the small living room of my childhood and I was six years old again. He sat me on our blood-red couch, and waved his hand in front of the fireplace where, magically, a fire started up. He was trying to tell me something. "Cate, you're a very special girl. Do you know why?" I shook my head. "Well, it's because you--"

 

Shouting and a loud pounding on our front door interrupted him. He had a look in his eyes that was something akin to fear. "Elizabeth," he yelled, calling for my mother.

 

She came running into the room, didn't ask any questions, just picked me up from my perch on the couch and quickly fled, with me in her arms, out the back door. The last thing I saw was my father's face, as he turned towards my cry of "Papa!" right before the front doors burst open.

 

--

 

I awoke with a start from my deep slumber. It had been years since I'd had that dream, but the effect was always the same. My heart was beating a mile a minute, my breathing was labored, and I had broken out in a cold sweat. I pushed my damp hair out of my face and tried to bring my breathing to a normal rate as I lied back against my pillows.

 

Pillows? That didn't seem right. The last thing I remembered was the storm...the house...and the fireplace... I had fallen asleep, I remembered, but not in a bed.

 

I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I was lying in a large, king-sized four-poster bed with heavily brocaded draperies hanging off of each post. It was hard to tell the color in the dim light of the candelabra that sat in the corner of the room to the left of a heavy oak dresser. I noticed my clothing hanging on the backside of an upright chair and quickly looked down at myself, only to discover that I was dressed in only my undergarments. Conscious of my current predicament, I pulled the thick comforter up to my chin, covering my nakedness and wondered who could have done this. It was only then that I noticed the shadow in the corner of the room, sitting in an overstuffed chair, boots propped up on a matching ottoman, fingers steeped together as if in deep concentration. His face was obscured by the shadows in the room, but I could definitely tell that he was male.

 

“Why have you come here?” His voice was soft and gentle, but underlined with passion and strength, and he wasted no time interrogating me. “Nobody ever comes here, and do you know why that is?” I wasn't sure if he expected an answer from me, but I shook my head in response nonetheless. “Because this place is haunted!” His voice quickly changed from the calm voice it had started out as into an angry, rough voice.

 

“I've heard,” I replied meekly. “They say it's haunted by some sorcerer-“

 

“I haunt this place!” A gust of wind tore through the room, rustling the bed curtains. I had to hold onto the sheets that I had protectively against my chest tightly to avoid losing them.

 

He appeared to ponder something for a minute, calming down, and then asked, “What's your name?”

 

"Cate..." I said softly.

 

"Cate..." he repeated. "Short for Catherine, I assume? And do you have a last name, Catherine?"

 

"It's Caitlin, actually. Caitlin Blackwood."

 

He seemed to mill the thought over, his steeped fingers coming unlace, one hand coming up to rest against his face. "So this is the one,” I heard him mutter before he gave a deep guttural sigh. “Your father?”

 

My father? My father was of no importance, why would he ask about him? “His name was Michael, but he died when I was very young…a car accident.”

 

“Did he, now?” His voice sounded very amused to hear that, which inflamed my sense of pride. “And what did your father do,” he continued in that amused little voice.

 

“He was in sales, I think.” Mom had always been pretty sketchy about that subject.

 

“Really…” His hands came down into his lap as he sat and thought for a minute, all the while keeping me in an uncomfortable silence. “Well, Caitlin, I can honestly say that you are either severely deluded, or very misinformed. Whichever the case, I would be quite glad to put you on the right path about your past, and… your future.” He stood up, somehow still encased in shadows, he was a tall man, taller than Lucas, and he walked to the door, pausing a minute before closing it behind him. “Your clothes should be dry by now; I will wait for you downstairs.”

 

As I quickly got dressed, I couldn't help but wonder what he was talking about. What had I been misinformed about? And how could this man possibly know anything about my father and my family. I opened the large wooden door, amazed at how light it seemed beneath my fingers, and took a furtive look around. The carpet-clothed stairs were slightly to my right, and I followed them down into the foyer, which led to the sitting room that I had fallen asleep in.

 

I stood in the doorway of the room, once again taking in its grandeur, before my gaze fell upon that mysterious man. He stood facing the window, whose curtains were slightly drawn back, his back facing me. For once he wasn't in shadows and I could clearly make out his dark hair, slicked back into a low ponytail.

 

He spoke before I had even stepped into the room, never once turning from the window. “What do you know about magic?”

 

What an odd question. All that I knew about the subject I had learned from books, but this town seemed to keep them in short supply. “Not much…”

 

“Nor would I expect you to, living in this…” His voice held a hint of disgust as he muttered the words, “this town. But, being who you are…”

 

“Are you really a sorcerer?” My curiosity had gotten the better of me and I couldn't help but ask the question that had been burning in my mind. I needed to know whether the stories were true. I now knew that the haunting of this house wasn't by a ghost, but he still could have been a sorcerer.

 

He almost looked startled at the question as he turned to face me; not full on, but so that I could see only the right side of his face. I was surprised to find that he was rather young looking, but he felt much older. He had deep blue eyes that shone like blue sapphires. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips as he replied, sounding disappointed, “No. That is one title that I have not been able to achieve. But, I can show you a few things, if you're willing to learn.”

 

“You want to teach me magic?” This day was getting stranger by the minute. Nothing seemed to make sense, and I kept thinking that at any moment I would wake up from this dream, safe in my bed, probably late for work, as it was. “Wait a minute…” There was something I had remembered from reading all those books. “Don't you have to be born with the ability to do magic? I didn't know that it's something that could be learned.”

 

“It's not,” he said, letting a small smile creep upon his face. “Ah, dear Caitlin, don't you know? The name `Blackwood' is synonymous with the most pure and powerful magical families in the history of magic.”

 

“That can't be. My father-“

 

“-Is not who you think he is.”

 

He didn't say anymore. We simply stood there, staring at each other. He was lying. He had to be. My mother would have told me the truth long ago if this had been the case. I know she would have. We had a very trusting relationship after my father…

 

“I don't believe you!” Anger swelled up in me like a storm, waiting to be released. “You're lying! You're LYING!”

 

Suddenly, as if a dam had burst open, I felt something draining me, as all my energy left, being expelled by my last shout. Windows burst inwards, mirrors shattered, and general chaos ensued within the sitting room. He just stood there, nearly emotionless as all this happened. I didn't know what to do. I was scared and I was confused. So I ran. I ran out of the house, through the woods, and somehow made it back across the bridge and to my house.