Makun sprinted through the streets of Old Town Spring, a tiny frown on his face.
He recalled Danielle’s interaction with Ray.
After Ray had ntioned them separating to find answers to the happenings of Old Town Spring, Danielle had been skeptical.
Usually after his readings, Ray had specific scenarios, specific events, similar to how scholars like Orel could deduce happenings from just so clue.
However this ti around, he only ntioned separation, he did not even ntion if there was any mystic involvent in the disappearances.
No, All he said is after each of them went their way, Whatever result they ca with after two days was sure to be the correct one.
They could then make a report.
She had pressed and asked why he could not see clearer scenarios, He had no particular answer, all he knew was that the spirits had difficulties pulling those different probabilities.
Danielle had accepted them separating, with the condition of her staying with Makun, but Ray had been categorical, everyone should go their way.
After loud screams, use of authority and persuasion from Sarah, Danielle had finally accepted.
Now, Makun was sprinting in hope he was not too late.
The sky had turned orange and purple, the sun had mostly set now, Only a few more minutes until it was completely dark, If he arrived at the suburban streets west of Old Town too late, he was scared he would not find what he was looking for.
He knew there was sothing up with Mrs. Jones, His senses, his intuition rarely betrayed him, He was so used to danger that he could feel it from miles away.
Minutes later, Makun saw the perfectly white walls of House 22, He was there. Lights had been turned on in the house reflecting throughout the windows. The Tesla in the driveway sat untouched, sa spot as before.
Good. Makun thought.
He was not late, Mrs. Jones was still at ho.
He looked around, was there anywhere he could stay without being noticed, but still have a good view of House 22, He scanned and saw a house not far away from Housee 22.
It was perfect, It was far enough but not too far, he could easily see what was happening in the house but not could bee seen from the house.
And there seed to be no one there to stop him.
Makun moved, and settled at house number 40.
Hah! He exhaled.
After running all the way from the center to hear, he thought his lungs were going to burn of fatigue.
Contrary to his expectations, he felt good, he still had so much energy left, he had barely burned his Ashe.
Makun knew practicing Mysticism, Walking down those routes and climbing the ladder of Ascension to the source granted strength.
He had seen it in its most grand state, Jorg, Yi and the Hand. But it still had not settled in, he did not know how non practitioners compared to people like him.
He did not really know what his limits were in terms of pure bodily functions were, compared to before he practiced mysticism.
He had to test it out.
While distracted by his thoughts, Makun saw a car, different from the Testla drive through the now dark streets.
The lights of the blinkers dimd, and the motor stopped grumbling exactly when it reached House 22.
Oh, and who might be visiting her now.
He saw a man in his late forties step out of the car, lean well built body, with a blonde mustache and short blonde hairs.
From his look, Makun knew it was the husband, Mr. jones, He looked exactly like little Yohan.
Right now, the smiling man he had seen on the photos on the parlor was nowhere to be seen, This man was distraught.
He seed really affected by Yohan’s disappearance.
Makun did not move, and only observed, noting every little detail, searching for sothing wrong with Mr. jones, but he saw nothing.
Was I wrong?
He asked himself after seeing how badly Mr. Jones seed to be affected by Yohan’s disappearance.
Maybe this was just a father who had lost his son, Maybe the perfect room was just a mother’s way of coping, keeping things clean because she could not keep her child safe.
Maybe Makun was projecting his own childhood onto strangers who had done nothing wrong.
He shook his head and patiently waited.
No.
He had lived through seven foster hos, He had seen parents smile for inspectors and beat him behind closed doors, He had learned to read the space between words, the silence after laughter, the tightness in a jaw that ant pain was coming.
He knew what a house felt like when love lived there.
House 22 did not feel like that.
This was the only ’clue’ he had deduced ever since they entered Old Town Spring.
And he was not leaving until he knew the truth.
The people, bars, the atmosphere had felt too normal, too normal for there not to be sothing off.
If he found nothing here, He had no idea where else to look, not like the orb Danielle had used detected any spiritual residue except for Jailhouse Saloon.
He looked at the moving shadows behind the lit windows of House 22.
It seed they were speaking, discussing important matters.
From the erratic movents, hand gestures and mouth opening Makun perceived with his now excellent eyes, he knew emotion was involved.
Mrs. Jones seed angry, pacing back and forth, her arms flying, her mouth moving fast.
Mr. Jones stood still, head bowed, like a man receiving a verdict.
Clic!
The front door opened, The couple stepped out, Mrs. Jones first, walking fast, Mr. Jones trailing behind.
They got into the black rcedes Mr. Jones had co with.
Makun’s eyes narrowed.
They were grieving, but it felt off. The emotions looked real, but a devotee of rage and chaos like himself felt no real tangible information related to rage in the environnt.
And more than that, where were they going at this ti, a grieving family should grieve at ho, behind closed doors, not get out of the house after the sun set, in a town where the sun setting ant disappearances.
Maybe I was not wrong after all.
Vrrrroooooom!
The car drove off, headlights cutting through the dark, turning left at the end of the street.
Show what you are doing. Makun did not hesitate, He moved.
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