losthunter | Facing the Wicked Witch

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Facing the Wicked Witch

After the rain let up, and Hunter was able to get home -- he spent the remainder of the evening reflecting on his current mood. He wasn't even able to finish any of the portraits that still needed some work, his mind clouded with thoughts at the Witch. And his father.

The thought of his father in the hospital was the one that bothered him the most. Especially since he had no information on how his father was faring -- thanks to the fact that he was denied access to the hospital room.

Come morning, his mind was made up. Hunter was going to talk to Kendra one last time and try to appeal to her somehow.

But he couldn't trust himself to meet her alone. And pulling out a phone number from the man he met last night -- Hunter picked up the phone. Then he called one William Kent.

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Wil looks at his phone in mild confusion, not recognizing the number. Either someone dialed him on accident, or... Hunter? "Hello?" he answers.

"Hello? Is this Wil? It is Hunter."

"Yeah, it's me. Didn't think I'd hear from you so soon. What's up?"

"I was sort of hoping you would be available. I am going to see Kendra again."

"And could use someone else there."

"You're going to see the witch?"

"Yes. She agreed to meet me for drinks."

Wil thinks that sounds like a terrible idea, but he did offer to help if he could. "Where do you want to meet up?"

"There is a small poetry café on East Third Street. I can send the GPS coordinates."

"All right. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes will give Hunter some time to freshen up, before heading downtown to the poetry café. The name of the place is "Nuyorican Poets Café". It has a colorful blue mural outside.

One nice thing about this place is that Hunter feels comfortable here. No one looks at him like he is a freak.

He waits patiently for Wil to arrive.

Wil's dressed in all black, his collar pulled up around his ears, and a pair of dark glasses over his eyes. He stubs out his cigarette and flicks it into a trash can before he pushes the cafe door open, looking around for Hunter.

Hunter is sitting at a table by himself -- quite easy to find since he is so distinguishable. It is only shortly a few moments after Wil arrives that someone else moves towards the table to join the both of them.

Kendra is distinguishable in her own way. Her long blonde hair is piled high on her head. There is a moon-shaped tattoo on the side of her face. And piercings in her eyebrows, and along the brow line. Her make-up is thick.

Her eyes make her look unworldly the most. It is like looking into the darkest storm. And her voice, while calm, has a sense of power to it. "I see you brought a friend."

Wil looks her over, scanning for weaknesses, always aware of the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. It's hard to ignore most days. "He did."

And Kendra meets his look, her eyes calculating quickly, her lips smiling ever so slightly.

"Poor little Kyle needs a bodyguard."

"Kendra... My name isn't Kyle anymore." Hunter whispers in response. She smiles, in the fashion that she knew he would respond thusly.

"What is it this time, then?" She doesn't call him Hunter.

"I want to know what you did to my dad."

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because... He is my dad."

Wil folds his arms across his chest. He's not used to being thought of as a bodyguard, but if his presence is best served by being intimidating, he'll do it. He stares at her stonily behind his sunglasses, watchful for any sign of hostility.

Kendra isn't hostile. Uppity and a little snobbish. But there is such power to her eyes, that seems to claim there is more to her ways than one might assume.

"What did you do to my dad?"

"I gave him a gift."

"By sending him to the hospital?" Hunter's hand clenches slightly. "They won't let me see him, Kendra."

"I can't change that."

"You could tell me what you did." Hunter reaches out to her. A pleading kind of touch to her hand. She allows it. She turns his palm, and traces her fingers along the dead rose bush that exists there.

"He needed time." She responds. Simply.

"To do what?" Wil asks.

"I gave Kyle..."

"Hunter." He interrupts her. She gives him a look. And her nails scrape his skin. Hunter has a bad feeling.

"...a year to find someone to love him. Despite his appearance."

"His father has a month. To live a different life. You see him in the hospital. In his mind -- he has lost his identity. Lost you. Lost his power."

"He needs time to find what is truly important to him." Kendra removes her hand from Hunter's. But he can still feel her touch. He can feel something twitch, like a burning sensation in his palm.

"What gives you the right to mess with people's lives this way?"

"Mess? You think that he is a mess?" Kendra tilts her head, studying Wil.

Hunter feels a little feverish. His pulse has quickened. "Leave him alone, Kendra."

"He sure as hell wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't done anything." Wil's aware that Hunter's heartrate has increased, but he figures it's just from the tension of the situation.

"No. He would be the vain, egotistical man he was. Still sleeping with girl after girl. Never truly realizing that his heart wasn't in it. Until he was unhappily wed. Five times over." Her eyes swirl slightly, and it is as he could see this possibility in her pupils. "Drinking his life away."

Hunter tries to ease the pain in his palm, by massaging it with his other thumb. He swears the rose bush is blooming again.

"I'm not saying the end result wasn't a good thing, but the ends don't always justify the means."

"And so... you would have not interfered?" Her eyes are swirling again. As if trying to determine something about Wil.

Hunter wants to try to speak up and stand by Wil. But he can't. His heart is pounding so loudly. And his head hurts.

Wil doesn't talk a lot, but he has a strong sense of justice. "There's a middle ground between ignoring the problem and cursing someone."

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