Hello lovelies!
Welcome to another installment of Wednesday Briefs! Please forgive me if there are any funny errors in the story because I wrote them in a different computer than my usual one.
The prompt I used for this story was:
Light of Time 3
“Then we shall remain here.”
Bethany turned away, silent. She
wrapped her arms around herself and stared out into the gloom. The
raging storm gained in power as the seconds ticked by. The wind
howled like a dozen pennant souls begging for mercy. The trees shook,
their branches contorting in all directions. Lightening and thunder
took turns in performing their macabre dance. While one illuminated
the sky the other crashed with a deafening sound. As the force of the
rain increased, droplets of water splashed onto her gown. Her hair
whipped around her face, the lace that had held it in place gone into
the madness of the storm.
Shivering slightly, Bethany sneaked a
peak at her companion. General Hodgins was like a beacon, for whereas
Bethany could have slipped into the shadows and hidden, he could not.
He was too tall, too blonde, too powerful, too obvious. Under the
raging storm he stood out. Quiet, serious, arms at his back, eyes
fixed in the distance, seeing God knew what.
The wind picked up and the rain became
icy. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and she ground her teeth, intent on
keeping the chattering at bay. She wanted answers. She needed
answers. She wet her lips, opened her mouth and was about to demand
them when Hodgins moved, cocking his head to one side.
“You know why we're here.”
Snapping her mouth shut, she glared at
him.
“I'm not so certain.”
Hodgins became silent again, his eyes
on the madness beyond the church's portico. She didn't know if he was
gathering his thoughts or out right ignoring her.
“This was a mistake.” Frustrated,
she gathered her dress and turned, ready to leave the General behind.
She'd find her own answers.
“Your grandfather's work. Your
suspicions. My suspicions.”
She veered to face him, “How?”
“I worked closely with your
grandfather. We were,” he hesitated, as if the words were difficult
to say, “friends.”
“Grandpa never mentioned you,” she
said dryly. She returned to her spot at his side, watching the
passing storm.
“He wouldn't. I asked him not to.”
“Why?” She whispered, gazing at the
mysterious man.
Finally, Hodgins turned toward her. His
clear eyes pierced through her and a batch of nerves danced deep in
her belly. The thought of cowering, running away from those eyes that
seemed to know everything, passed through her mind for a fraction of
a second, but she hadn't been raised that way. With as much dignity
as she could muster she straightened her back and met the General's
stare head on.
They stood like that for what seemed to
her like eons, but was probably little more than a few seconds.
“He raised you well.” She could
barely hide her surprise when the corner of Hodgins' lips lifted
slightly. “Come on. Let's go.” Bethany hesitated as he offered
her his right hand. He had large hands with long thin fingers that
reminded her of the young piano professor she'd had as a child.
Unfortunately, she knew enough about Hodgins to know that those hands
did not belong to a man that played the piano like an angel. No,
those strong fingers had probably never touched an instrument with a
loving caress, but they had reached out and brought death to more
than one.
Without comment, Hodgins lowered his
hand and stepped into the rain, quickly walking away. Alarmed,
Bethany hurried after him. The rain was still coming strong, the
storm not nearly over. As water loggged her dress, her steps became
slower, the weight of the garment cumbersome. Her hair became
plastered to her face, the locks mingling with the water that
insisted in getting into her eyes.
“Hodgins,” she cried out, furious.
The man walked faster and soon she lost sight of him. Cursing,
Bethany turned around. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If she didn't
die of a pneumonia her nana would kill her for trusting a man who's
first name she did not know. How many times had the old nurse told
her? It's all Mr. this and Mr. that in this day and age, but if a
man doesn't share his first name with you, then he's hiding something
and it's not good.
Glancing
about, Bethany caught her bearings. She'd return to the church and
wait out the storm. Afterward, she'd hire a cab back home. Miserable,
she trudged her way back. A loud whinny was the only warning
she received as rough hands picked her from the floor.
To be continued...
Now go and read the awesome stories out there!
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