The Demon Trials (The Demon Trials #1)

Chapter 5

It’s missing. How can this be?

The journal I thought was in a safe place; an almost secured place, yet somehow the journal vanished without a trace. It does not have legs. It is an inanimate object. How can it just be there early in the morning; guessing it has been twelve hours since then and now it’s lost.

            Where is it?

            Where is the journal? The desk drawer was the only place I put it in. It holds the information I need to do to complete the trials. I can remember them in my mind, but continuing touching inside the cold-barren drawer nothing. What happened to it?

            Either this was a blunder on my part from not thinking of a more secured place or someone knew where I put it. Wondering who could of have seen it and possibly take it. I told Liana early today, yet I never told her where I put it. And there is Mal, Karina, and Aris. They all saw the journal, but did they really steal it.

            The only other person I could think of is the only person I trust the most; mother. Feeling optimistic she might have it, I walk out of my room with one goal in my mind. Making sure the journal is still safe and that she has it.

            As I walk in the hallway, I start to hear chatter from the living room. Like my mom is talking to someone else.

Could it be Mal or someone else?

            Trying to fathom what just happened to the journal and wonder who mom is talking to; I approach the interior of the living room. I see mom having a curious conversation with a man I cannot identify. I notice mom laughing at something he is saying. Observing him, he is African-American with a fade cut and a double chin among his most distinguishable features. It looks like they are drinking tea mom fixed.

            I step closer to spy, but the guy caught me. Mom turns to see me as well. Guess being James Bond is out of the question. I walk closer once more as mom try to put me in their talk.

            “Hey son.” She says as she glances at her guest, “Nick, this is my son, Caden.”

            “Hey Caden, my name’s Nick.” He says with an African accent. So he is not a local around here or the Acadiana area.  I try to be hesitant to respond. I see mom not being patient for me. Presumes I might be rude to her guest. Wanting to make my mom happy, I finally speak.

            “So Nick, are you from here?”

            “No. I live in Katy, Texas. It is right near Houston.”

            “Oh, that’s interesting.”

            Mom just sitting near Nick and watching us boys talk. I really do not want to be part of the discussion. I actually came for a purpose.

            “Hey mom…” Before I even have a chance to continue, Nick being rude interrupts me.

            “I’m sorry Caden, but I just need to ask Anne something.” He states.

            I wonder how my mom met Nick; she never mentions anything about him to me. They are definitely first name basis to each other. But the real question, who Nick really is.

            “Sorry sweetie, but I need to continue this talk.” She says.

            “Mom, I need you.” I say.

            “Not right now.” She says.

            “No mom, now!” I shout to get her attention. Viewing her, she is obviously upset because I yell; I did not meant to, but I had to.