Justin Rutherford: The Night They Returned

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"Are you okay with that Justin?" Eric asked as Justin nodded. He was happy to make sandwiches with Christina that morning.

"Yeah, sure. It will keep me out of trouble," Justin said, and he really wasn't opposed to spending most of his time with Christina. They needed a catch up.

Eric was grateful of his reply. "That's what I was thinking."

Christina placed a hand on Justin's shoulder as they exited the front of the Pandora Café. The doors to the kitchen swung open with ease. The pair of friends looked at each other for a moment.

There was so much etched onto their faces, as if they had aged a whole decade in just a week. The events they had gone through – the chases, the horror, the deaths – had caught up to them. They barely had time to recover from each event before being thrust into another.

"Do you wanna talk about Logan?" Christina asked, looking at Justin with an engaged look and a suggestive smirk. "You spent a lot of time with him yesterday, fighting gypsy goddesses and saving kidnapped children. Very romantic."

Justin giggled. "Oh shut up." Despite being a little embarrassed, he couldn't stop smiling. "I spoke to him very briefly this morning before work. I think, if nothing happens today, we're going on a date. But don't get your hopes up! Something always happens."

Just as he said that, a flash of red blinded him temporarily. When his eyes adjusted and the flash dissipated, he noticed Christina wasn't standing next to him anymore. She was on the floor.

"Christina?!" He said in confusion, noticing that she had suddenly fallen unconscious. He kneeled down next to her and shook her. She remained unresponsive.

"What the..."

He looked up. A woman stood a few feet away. She was old, yet the features on her face were still so fine that the years seemed to drop from her appearance. Her dress, extravagant, blended purple and black that looked rather remarkable, though extremely outdated. Her figure remained slim, despite, as Justin presumed, to be centuries old.

"Don't be alarmed Justin, she is not dead." Her voice was surprisingly soft. The face of the woman did not scare Justin, but the eyes burned through him, and a strange curiosity awoke within him.

He rose to his feet. "Are you one of the witches that Tiffany spoke of? Did you visit her in the church?"

She eyed him with a warm smile. "Quite right. My name is Abigail. My sisters and I did visit Tiffany but yesterday, and since, we have been roaming the town. It has changed drastically over the last hundred years."

Some fear stirred within Justin. She appeared civil – for the time being. Their conversation would keep her from doing something foul to him, he hoped.

"How so?"

"Well, this café wasn't a café then. It was an inn, and a rather murderous one at that. You would simply die if you knew the things that went on here."

Justin realised she did not know what he knew. "Are you referring to my past life? Not just mine, but my friends' too."

"Certainly. Why, you know more than I realised, little sparrow."

"What did you do to Christina?"

The witch took a few steps closer to him. She looked down at Christina, who appeared as though she was sleeping. "She's fine. I only enchanted her to sleep until we leave the café. Come with me."

"Definitely not!" Justin told her, and took a breath, ready to shout to Eric and the others for help. Abigail was already one step ahead of him, and when he tried to shout, he found his voice could not. She smiled at him.

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