Read Online Magical Influence Book One by Odette C. Bell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Odette C. Bell
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deeply
as I followed the two of them back into the kitchen.
The second I reached it,
I realized
just how damaged the roof was. A gale was blowing through the hole
the branch had wrought, and as the rain slammed down, it fell onto
the floor, soon to ruin one of my favorite rugs.
“It's a bit draughty in here, Jacob, how
about we move into the drawing room? Esme, be a good girl and fix
up the tea and cake, would you?”
I didn't want to be a good girl. I
wanted to kick Jacob out and have a tantrum. I had just enough
self-control not to do that though. I busied myself trying to clean
up my kitchen instead. Once I had delivered the tea and cake to my
grandmother and her thoroughly unwanted guest, I set about trying
to figure out a way to get the branch out of the wall, and some
kind of shield up so my kitchen wasn't completely ruined in the
storm.
Clambering into a thick jacket and
gumboots and fixing my hair into a tight bun, I waded out into the
darkening day to see what I could do.
“I hate you, day,” I said petulantly as I
sloshed over to the oak tree that had lost its branch, planting my
hands on my hips as I leant back to survey the damage.
If I were a different kind of which, I
would have tried to talk the wood into pulling itself out of the
wall and the wall into stacking up its bricks, strengthening its
mortar, and fixing its plaster back into place.
Unfortunately I had to deal with what
I had, so I splashed over to the shed looking for the chainsaw I
knew was still in there.
I hauled it back to the oak tree, then
spent a few frustrated moments trying to get it to
start.
“You are seriously going chainsaw in this
weather, are you?” I heard Jacob ask from behind me.
Not expecting it, I gave a jump,
starting the chainsaw at that exact moment.
“Dammit, be careful, you could take my leg
off with that,” he scolded as I turned around with the chainsaw in
hand, the chain turning around as the machine groaned from years of
misuse.
I turned it off, dropping it to
my side .
“It's not like I have much of a choice. There's a sodding great
branch in my kitchen,” I pointed to it needlessly as a gust of wind
plastered my hair into my face, the rain managing to seep its cold
touch down the back of my jacket.
“Just leave it, call someone in the
morning,” he suggested.
I frowned at him, turned my back,
started the chainsaw, and muscled it over to the tree.
And that would be when I felt
it.
Another snaking, twisting spike of
precognition.
There was a crack from behind me. From
the same mutinous oak tree that had already dropped a branch onto
my already decrepit house.
I had the presence of mind to drop the
chainsaw, and without my hand on the trigger, thankfully it stopped
before I could take my foot off.
Half a second later, a branch came
swinging my way like a dark shadow from a nightmare.
It didn't squish me; it didn't get the
chance.
Jacob slammed into my side, pulling me
to the left just as the branch fell exactly where I’d been
standing.
His arm around my middle, his weight
pressing into my back, I fell face first into the mud. I breathed
in the wet dirt, and I started to choke wildly.
But the weather and the day were not
over yet. There was another crack from above us. Jacob hauled me up
by the collar of my jacket, and pushed me to the side
again.
The whole tree was about to
go.
“Get back,” he commanded needlessly. It
was needless because I could already see I didn't want to stand
anywhere near that tree, and because he had an arm around my middle
and was dragging me away as fast as he could.
With another almighty snapping sound,
the whole trunk sliced in two and the rest of the branches fell
over with a groan.
It was a spectacular sight. Made all
the more frantic by the sudden clap of thunder and the slice of
lightning far off down the street.
Even though it was only relatively
early in the evening, the sudden approach of the storm had sucked
the remaining light out of the
as I followed the two of them back into the kitchen.
The second I reached it,
I realized
just how damaged the roof was. A gale was blowing through the hole
the branch had wrought, and as the rain slammed down, it fell onto
the floor, soon to ruin one of my favorite rugs.
“It's a bit draughty in here, Jacob, how
about we move into the drawing room? Esme, be a good girl and fix
up the tea and cake, would you?”
I didn't want to be a good girl. I
wanted to kick Jacob out and have a tantrum. I had just enough
self-control not to do that though. I busied myself trying to clean
up my kitchen instead. Once I had delivered the tea and cake to my
grandmother and her thoroughly unwanted guest, I set about trying
to figure out a way to get the branch out of the wall, and some
kind of shield up so my kitchen wasn't completely ruined in the
storm.
Clambering into a thick jacket and
gumboots and fixing my hair into a tight bun, I waded out into the
darkening day to see what I could do.
“I hate you, day,” I said petulantly as I
sloshed over to the oak tree that had lost its branch, planting my
hands on my hips as I leant back to survey the damage.
If I were a different kind of which, I
would have tried to talk the wood into pulling itself out of the
wall and the wall into stacking up its bricks, strengthening its
mortar, and fixing its plaster back into place.
Unfortunately I had to deal with what
I had, so I splashed over to the shed looking for the chainsaw I
knew was still in there.
I hauled it back to the oak tree, then
spent a few frustrated moments trying to get it to
start.
“You are seriously going chainsaw in this
weather, are you?” I heard Jacob ask from behind me.
Not expecting it, I gave a jump,
starting the chainsaw at that exact moment.
“Dammit, be careful, you could take my leg
off with that,” he scolded as I turned around with the chainsaw in
hand, the chain turning around as the machine groaned from years of
misuse.
I turned it off, dropping it to
my side .
“It's not like I have much of a choice. There's a sodding great
branch in my kitchen,” I pointed to it needlessly as a gust of wind
plastered my hair into my face, the rain managing to seep its cold
touch down the back of my jacket.
“Just leave it, call someone in the
morning,” he suggested.
I frowned at him, turned my back,
started the chainsaw, and muscled it over to the tree.
And that would be when I felt
it.
Another snaking, twisting spike of
precognition.
There was a crack from behind me. From
the same mutinous oak tree that had already dropped a branch onto
my already decrepit house.
I had the presence of mind to drop the
chainsaw, and without my hand on the trigger, thankfully it stopped
before I could take my foot off.
Half a second later, a branch came
swinging my way like a dark shadow from a nightmare.
It didn't squish me; it didn't get the
chance.
Jacob slammed into my side, pulling me
to the left just as the branch fell exactly where I’d been
standing.
His arm around my middle, his weight
pressing into my back, I fell face first into the mud. I breathed
in the wet dirt, and I started to choke wildly.
But the weather and the day were not
over yet. There was another crack from above us. Jacob hauled me up
by the collar of my jacket, and pushed me to the side
again.
The whole tree was about to
go.
“Get back,” he commanded needlessly. It
was needless because I could already see I didn't want to stand
anywhere near that tree, and because he had an arm around my middle
and was dragging me away as fast as he could.
With another almighty snapping sound,
the whole trunk sliced in two and the rest of the branches fell
over with a groan.
It was a spectacular sight. Made all
the more frantic by the sudden clap of thunder and the slice of
lightning far off down the street.
Even though it was only relatively
early in the evening, the sudden approach of the storm had sucked
the remaining light out of the
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