The Witches on BellaRow Street

28. What Are You Doing Here?

I am my Ancestors; Compassionate, Creative, and Complex.
*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ:*

Well, let's go then!

It's in these moments, when my sisters and I, well, in this case, Junie and I, can come together as one powerful, bold, gritty, gutsy, magical unit and defeat anyone who wishes us harm.

However, Junie and I, need to make sure we don't burn, break, drench, or demolish anything expensive, or else we'll never hear the end of it from our other two sisters who are currently missing all the action.

Without further delay, Junie wraps her fingers around the doorknob, flexes her muscles and magic, peeks at me one more time, and swing the 'employee only' door open.

A gust of air fills my starving lungs, followed by Junie releasing her grip around the door and extinguishing the fire emitting off her hands. Our combined magic dwindles in the process.

If these walls could talk, it'll say, "Oh, hell no," in the same way Junie verbalized it earlier, except this time it's about the man standing in front of us.

Or should I say Aunt BeeBee's nephew, Alexander, a young college student with a gift for being at the wrong place at the wrong time--like right now. 

For a brief moment, Junie and I stare at him, taking in his streetwear clothes, his fidgety behavior, his sunken in eyes, and how the sun seeping through our store's window, casts a dark shadow over him. I wonder how long has it been since he's slept? Two days ago? Three?

He's also holding a stack of papers, files, and folders cradled between his arms.

"I thought we told you to leave," the edge in Junie's voice doesn't compare to our night in the alley, but it's still felt. She avoids greetings like 'hi, how are you,' and 'long time, no see,' because getting straight to the point is her specialty. Plus, Junie's not a fake Witch.

"I know," he utters back, matching her same energy. "But when I heard Councilman Lay---"

"Don't say his name!" Junie and I blurt at the same time. We're so in sync right now, the magic flowing through our veins, glows at the same time. However, he's not threatened, shock, or caught off guard like Zion on the rooftop.

"The councilman isn't dead," he says, eyes faltering. "He's lying in a coma. And I thought--"

"Alexander," Junie lowers her voice while glancing at the window, me, him, and anything that moves. "What are you doing here?"

Alexander's surprised by Junie's dry, yet forward tone, but that doesn't stop him from looking at me, hoping I'll swoop in and save the day. When I let the tension build and avoid his solemn eyes, he directs his attention towards the next best thing--the documents in his hands.

Alexander shifts. "I--I found more information on the Councilman and..." He ruffles through a stack of papers, drops a few documents, picks some up, scatters half of them on the countertop, and eventually spreads them out, pointing at notable locations, names, and buildings. "It's everything I've mentioned and more."

"More?" I ask, suddenly interested in what the most beloved Councilman of NOLA was up to behind closed doors, aside from his usual VIP lifestyle.

Junie glares in my direction, giving me the 'girl, why are you encouraging him' look, by scrunching her brows and shaking her head.

Meanwhile, Alexander continues dropping papers on the floor, huffing, and making a bigger mess like he's in a hurry. From what I can see, some of the documents have bank statements, escrow account numbers, and maps of the city.