Change Of Season (22 page)

“Autumn?  Is that you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Mom.” 

She forced herself to remain calm, but her mother knew her well:  she came running immediately from the kitchen, a ladle in hand.

“Sweetie, what happened?  You look terrible!”  The back of her hand pressed to Autumn’s forehead.  “Are you sick?”

“No.  I just have cramps,” Autumn lied.

“You don’t look like this during your monthly, Autumn,” her mother challenged her.

“I know.  I don’t know what’s wrong.  Maybe it’s stress?  Exams are next week.” 

The lies fell readily from her lips, as Chris echoed in her skull. 
If you ever snoop around like this, or speak of what happened to anyone, I promise you that something far worse will happen to you or someone you care about
.  She couldn’t tell her.  Not now. 

“Maybe.  Come on, then, I’ll tuck you in with the heating pad.  Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” 

Her mother seized her backpack, helping her up the stairs and to her room, where a miniature collie lazed on her comforter, snoring lightly.  Her mother disappeared into the hallway, rummaging through the linen closet as Autumn settled onto the bed, stroking the dog’s ears.  Not to be forgotten, Pandora jumped up to join them, thrusting her head against Autumn’s knee.

“Persephone and Pandora, demanding their Goddess treatment as usual,” her mother commented wryly, the heating paid in her arms.

“Hey, you’re Greek.  You should understand them,” Autumn weakly joked.

“Those two love you so much,” Sarah Brody murmured tenderly.  “Now, into bed while I plug this in.  If you still feel rough tomorrow, you can play hooky and watch game shows all day.”

“Bob Barker is a dreamboat,” Autumn replied, snuggling inside her blankets.  “Can you bring me some Advil too?”

“Of course, baby.  Hang tight.”

The heating pad slowly ebbed warmth, which felt wonderful against her aching stomach.  Sensing her pain, her pets nestled alongside her, no longer demanding she serve them.  Her mother returned with a glass of water and two Advil, which Autumn downed quickly, seeking relief from the pulsing ache where she’d been struck.  Eyes closed, she sank into a fitful sleep, where Chris and Fiona pulled at her until she tore in two, arms severed and abandoned by both as they walked away, leaving her to die.

***

“NEIL!”

Autumn bolted upright, wincing at the sudden movement.  Her mother was screaming outside, and as her father’s feet flew down the stairs, Autumn tossed the covers from her body and stumbled behind him, terrified of what she might find.  Her mother shouted again, sobbing, and Autumn knew long before she rounded the final step what had happened: 
Chris
.

What she didn’t foresee, however, was what he’d done.

“Autumn, baby, no!  Go back in the house!”

“Mom?”  She edged towards the front porch, craning her neck around her father.  “Mom, what’s wrong?  Are you okay?”

“Get the blanket from the trunk, Sarah.  I’ll get her to the doctor.”  Her father was solemn.  Scared. 
What the hell is wrong
?

“Mom, what’s going on?”

The blood.  So much blood.  Her mother’s beautiful cashmere sweater was soaked in it, her hair matted with it.  Her father moved quickly, thrusting open the back door of the Windstar while her mother threw open the hatch, digging for an old flannel blanket they kept for emergencies.

Emergency
.

“Mom?  Dad?”

Another step and she understood why her mother was frantic, why the blanket was needed.

The mutilated form of Persephone, her beloved dog, lay cradled in her father’s arms.  Her tongue lolled, chest heaving, her back legs bent at an impossible angle.

“No, no, no, no…”

She rushed forward, caught by her mother, who embraced her tightly.  She struggled and flailed, reaching towards the van, her bare feet cold against the driveway.  Her mother urged her to stay, but she would not – could not.

“I don’t know how she got out of the yard,” her mother sobbed.  “I didn’t see it…”

“Daddy!” Autumn wailed.  “Let me GO!  She needs me!”

Her father started the van, his body shaking as he glanced into the back seat. 

“Why didn’t the car stop?” her mother sobbed.  “Accidents happen!”

This was no accident
.  Chris wanted her fully cognizant of the consequences of disobedience.

“Mom,
please
!  I NEED TO GO WITH HER!”

Reluctantly, her mother let go and Autumn ran towards the van.  Yanking open the back door, she jumped inside, immediately reaching out for Persephone.  The dog whimpered, bubbles of blood frosting her nose. 

“Daddy, drive!”

Carefully, she lifted Persephone onto her lap, cradling her in the warmth of the blanket.  Her palms pressed against the gaping wound in her side, applying pressure, willing the tiny animal to hang on, to breathe, to wait.  In a grotesque moment, she realized what the collie looked like:

Fiona
.

Autumn wept loudly, cursing herself in guilt. 
This is my fault.  He did this to punish
me.  She knew then, stroking her dog’s matted fur, that she couldn’t tell her parents about Chris.  They couldn’t keep her safe.  No, she needed a different strategy.  A careful one.  Simply
telling
wouldn’t save her.

You can’t hide from me
.

Her father broke several traffic laws on the way to their vet, but it was of no use:  minutes before they reached the hospital, Autumn’s pet of nine years gasped, coughed, then slipped away, with one final, dainty lick of her master’s hand in farewell.

THIRTEEN

Oakville; October 15
th
, 2011

“Oh my God, I ate too much.  Again,” Veronica groaned, shoving aside a bowl of popcorn.  “I’m totally eating my feelings this week.”

“What feelings were you eating on Thanksgiving?” Autumn asked, downing a handful of Skittles.

“Annoyance with my mother, of course!  I was eating to spite her and all her innuendos about the eating disorder I don’t have.”

Autumn grinned, jabbing Veronica’s arm.  “Says the girl who’s eating her feelings.”

“Shut up!  Oh look, Chip’s arrived!”

With a giggle, the two teens watched with unmasked glee as Chip Coffey, purported psychic, entered the house where Ryan Buell and the entourage of
Paranormal State
were dealing with a nasty haunting by a demon.  It was screamingly obvious, in their minds, that Chip had no real gift and was prepped, but his blunt and often crude speech amused Veronica and Autumn to no end.

“You really think watching this will give us ideas?” Autumn asked, snorting as Chip asked Ryan if someone had been
violated
in the bathtub.

“Maybe! At least Ryan’s hot,” Veronica replied. 

“He’s totally dating Sergey, though,” Autumn mused.

Veronica shrugged, eyes fixed on the screen.  “Figures.  He’s hot, too.  Oh dear lord, this is totally Linda Blair!  Not buying this one.”

“Me neither, but Chip’s hilarious.  He makes this show awesome.”

Autumn’s gaze wandered to her desk, where she’d recently added a digital picture frame.  The image shifted fluidly from one of her parents to a snap of herself with Pandora the previous weekend.  The diminutive cat was cradled in her arms, swaddled like an infant.

“I miss Pandora,” she said sadly.

Veronica nodded.  “She’s a cutie pie.  Did she really try and stow away when you were packing up?”

Autumn sighed.  “Twice: once in my duffel bag, and once in the stash of food my mom sent home.  She and I have always been so close.  We had to bottle feed her when she first came home to be fostered and she preferred me doing it, for some reason.  It’s been worse since we lost Persephone.”

“Who’s Persephone?” Veronica asked.

Autumn winced, chastising herself silently for her slip.  “Our dog.  She was hit by a car last year.”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” Veronica sat up, throwing her arms around Autumn for a quick hug.  “All the more reason Logan should let you have her here.  I mean, your room is essentially solo. What’s the fucking damage?”

Autumn shrugged, reaching for her Diet Coke.  “Allergies or some such crap.  Whatever.  Knowing my luck, Pandora would get lost on this campus and that would suck.  How are the rehearsals going?”

Veronica hesitated, toying with a loose strand of hair.  “They’re fine, I guess.  The chairs worked out well, by the way.”

“But?”

Her forehead crinkled as she continued. “It’s silly, but I’m so fucking nervous! I don’t know why – this part’s smaller than my last two – but I’m positively terrified of messing up!  I keep seeing myself forgetting my monologue, or tripping over a chair, or… I don’t know!”

Autumn nodded thoughtfully, mulling what she knew of Veronica and quickly reaching a theory.  “But this role means a lot to you, right?  I mean, on a personal level.  Ivy wasn’t personal, and neither was Maureen in
Rent
.”

Veronica’s eyes clouded over as she leaned back against the spare bed.  “Yeah… That makes sense.  You always get me, Autumn.”

Autumn blushed, busying herself with candy.  “I just listen.  Nothing special.”

“Stop knocking yourself! It’s quite annoying, and I’ll be forced to tickle you until you comply.”  With a feigned lurch in her direction, Veronica laughed, gesturing to the abandoned TV show. “Maybe we’re better off on our own.  Any insights?”

For the last week, the two of them had discussed how to urge Nikki – if it was her loitering around – to cross over, move on, or do whatever spirits did when they considered matters finished.  Autumn was all for cleansing techniques and rituals: incense, crystals, prayers and the like.  Veronica, on the other hand,  felt that Nikki had a message, and if she were able to pass it along, she’d go on her own.  While Autumn secretly agreed with Veronica’s theory, the fact remained that she didn’t
want
to hear the message.  She had enough to deal with on her own.

“I still say we sage the hell out of my room,” Autumn replied, switching tabs to Google.  “Some sort of ‘peace out and please stop crying in my room’ ritual works for me.”

“I really think a séance would do it, but I get that it freaks you out.”

“V, you didn’t wake up to erased footage and a message from the sobbing student in the walls.”

“True,” Veronica agreed.  “I could do it solo.”

“No, no way.  Haven’t we gone over the rules?  Fuck it, maybe I should just accept that I have a roommate of sorts and be done with it.” 

Exasperated, Autumn rose to her feet, stretching her arms overhead and wincing.  She’d begun hitting the campus gym after school this week, and while it was helping her with her sleep, her muscles were furious with the sudden weight training.  Stepping into the bathroom, Autumn flipped the top off her toothpaste and squeezed a dollop onto her brush.

“You’ve had Professor Grant before, right?” she called out to Veronica.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Veronica groaned.  “I barely passed grade ten Science because of him.  He totally hates me because I’m blonde.  No lie.”

“Well, he apparently hates redheads too, so any suggestions on how to dodge his verbal abuse would be nice,” Autumn grumbled, thrusting the brush into her mouth and scrubbing.

Veronica rose too, joining her in the bathroom with her own toothbrush.  “Good call. This’ll get me off the candy.  Anyway, Grant likes people who really know their shit, and can answer a question whenever he asks one.  He hates people who doodle, pass notes or do anything that isn’t worshipping his prowess as a teacher.”

Spitting into the sink, Autumn rolled her eyes. “So he really is the fucking Severus Snape of Casteel?”

“Pretty much,” Veronica mumbled around her own toothbrush.

Autumn rinsed her brush, sullen at this confirmation of her theory.  Ever since that first day, when she’d arrived late
with a slip
, Grant had been riding her in class, constantly asking her questions without warning, rolling his eyes if she messed up in any way.  She’d chosen Biology for her senior Science credit because the equations in Chemistry and Physics drove her nuts, but Organic Chem suddenly sounded like a cake walk, provided Grant wasn’t at the helm.