A few days had passed, and my beloved car was officially gone. Disappeared. Vanished into thin air.
It was like it had grown legs and walked away, leaving me stranded with nothing but memories and an empty spot in the forest where it had once proudly rested.
At first, I thought maybe some good Samaritan had come along and taken it to a nearby shop. Or maybe, just maybe some miracle towing service had retrieved it overnight.
But when I checked with every garage and towing company in the area, the answer was always the same: "Sorry, miss. Haven't seen it."
And now, standing in my kitchen with a cup of stale coffee, I stared at the empty parking space outside like a forlorn lover waiting for their partner to come back from war.
"How could you do this to me?" I muttered under my breath, cradling the mug like it might offer solace.
"I took care of you. Washed you. Vacuumed the crumbs from your seats. And this is how you repay me? By disappearing? I paid so much for you!"
My hands tightened around the mug as if squeezing it could somehow substitute for the tension in my chest.
My car wasn't just a car it was a piece of my freedom, a badge of independence. Now, without it, I was just a twenty-three-year-old failure hoofing it around town like a teenager who hadn't saved enough for a bike.
I sighed, setting the mug down and grabbing my coat. It was time to take this to the next level. If the tow companies didn't know, maybe the police did.
Surely someone in law enforcement had seen a mysterious vehicle being hauled out of the woods.
---
The police station was a dull gray building tucked between a pharmacy and a convenience store. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and a hint of something that could only be described as despair.
A few officers milled about, chatting idly or typing away on ancient computers. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered sporadically, adding an unsettling strobe effect to the room.
I approached the front desk, where a gruff-looking officer sat with a nameplate that read Officer Daniels.
His uniform was slightly wrinkled, and a half-eaten donut sat precariously close to the keyboard of his computer. He looked up at me with an expression that screamed, What do you want?
"Hi," I started, trying to keep my voice even. "I'm here to report a missing car."
Daniels raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if I'd just asked him to solve world hunger. "A missing car, huh? You sure it didn't just roll away?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Roll away? No, I'm pretty sure cars don't do that on their own."
"Well, you'd be surprised," he said, picking up his donut and taking a massive bite.
"People forget to put the parking brake on all the time. Next thing you know, their precious vehicle's halfway down the street."
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. "It didn't roll away. It was stuck in a forest, and now it's gone. Someone must have taken it."
Daniels gave me a long, unimpressed stare, crumbs decorating his uniform. "A forest, you say? What were you doing with your car in a forest?"
"Taking a scenic route," I lied quickly, not wanting to explain the entire disastrous series of events that had led to this moment.
He snorted. "A scenic route? Through a forest? In a car? Lady, do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"
"I know how it sounds," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "But it happened, and now my car is missing. Are you going to help me or not?"
Daniels sighed, leaning forward and typing something lazily into his computer. "Make? Model? Year?"
I rattled off the details, trying not to glare at him too hard as he typed with all the urgency of a sloth on a hot day.
After what felt like an eternity, he looked up. "So let me get this straight. You drove your car into a forest, left it there for days, and now you're surprised it's gone?"
"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Daniels leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Look, miss, I don't mean to be harsh, but it's just a car. Cars go missing all the time. If someone took it, it's probably halfway to the chop shop by now."
His words hit me like a slap. "Just a car?" I repeated, my voice rising. "It's not just a car. It's my car. And I need it back."
"Yeah, well, good luck with that," he said, clearly unimpressed by my outburst. "We've got actual crimes to deal with—robberies, assaults, things that matter. A missing car isn't exactly at the top of our priority list."
I stared at him, stunned by his callousness. "You're supposed to help people."
"And we do," he said, his tone clipped. "But we're not miracle workers. If your car turns up, you'll get a call. Until then, I suggest you start looking at bus schedules."
That was it. The final straw. Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the station, my face burning with anger and humiliation.
Outside, the crisp air did little to cool my temper. I walked to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling my jacket tighter around me. My thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration and despair. First, the academy. Now this. How much more was the universe planning to throw at me?
I reached into my pocket for my phone, and my fingers brushed against something else the sleek, cold surface of the card Amara had given me. I pulled it out, staring at the crimson numbers.
It was a ridiculous idea. She was a villain. A wanted criminal. Calling her for help was probably the worst decision I could make.
But then again, what other options did I have? The police clearly weren't going to do anything. And as much as I hated to admit it, Amara had an air of competence about her. If anyone could find my car, it was probably her.
With a deep breath, I dialed the number.
The phone rang twice before a familiar, smooth voice answered. "I was wondering when I'd hear from you."
"Amara," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "I… I need your help."
"Interesting," she replied, a hint of amusement in her tone. "And what kind of help would that be?"
"My car," I said, feeling ridiculous even as the words left my mouth. "It's gone. I thought maybe you could… I don't know, track it down or something."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft chuckle. "Of all the things you could have called me for, you choose a missing car. Fascinating."
"Can you help me or not?" I snapped, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Oh, I can help," she said smoothly. "The question is whether you're ready to pay the price."
My stomach twisted. "What kind of price?"
"You'll find out soon enough," she said cryptically. "Hold on."
Before I could ask what she meant, a surge of energy crackled through the phone, and my surroundings blurred. The world tilted, spinning wildly, and then, with a jolt, everything went still.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't on the bench anymore.
I was somewhere else entirely.