Redemption (6 page)

 Jacin rolled his eyes at her before moving to walk alongside Lita.

“Not me. I have to meet with coach. And anything that gets me out of Fitzpatrick’s class is Heaven sent,” Jacin grumbled as Monroe stuck one of his ear buds into her ear. She immediately scrunched her nose and threw it down in disgust. She hated most modern music.

“Whatever happened to Sinatra? Hell, even Elvis or the Beatles would do,” she murmured as Conor looked down at her callously.

“Try appreciating us "alive" guys a little more, Roe. What is it we’re missing that disgusts you so much?” he asked before flicking a glance at Jacin.

Jacin just shrugged and started whispering something into Lita’s ear. She smiled as he broke away from our group. I’d choose coach over Fitzpatrick any day too. Lucky guy.

“A certain civility, gentility, and sensitivity,” Monroe answered. Conor snorted.

“Sounds gay to me,” he commented before breaking away from the rest of us. Lita followed him.

“Dumb ox,” Monroe grumbled as we walked into Fitzpatrick’s first period English class.

I just shook my head good naturedly. Listening to them quarrel had almost made me forget my strange concerns. Almost. I could spin a mean fantasy world in my head, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pretend the weekend away.

Chapter 4

He is one of the Cursed, a bloodline with no true link to Hell and no link at all with Heaven. The Earth is their domain. Mortals should fear them. They have no love for humankind.

~Bezaliel~

“What’s up, Red?” Conor called out as he limped to me from across the hall.

We were headed for fourth period philosophy, a new elective class my aunt insisted I take and the only one Conor and I shared. It was cloudy outside and his leg always bothered him when there was a chance of rain. I grinned at him and raised my hand. He pulled up alongside me, his six-foot broad frame completely overshadowing my five-foot-nothing thin one.

“Hey, Con,” I said lightly.

He leaned over and took my backpack off my shoulder, throwing it onto his back with his. I didn’t try and make him give it back. Even with a limp, his chivalry wasn’t lost.

“You seem distracted today. You okay, Red?” Conor asked as we moved into the classroom and took a seat at the back of the room. Neither of us had any desire to sit near the front. Conor was only in the class because he needed one more elective and everything except Home Ec and Philosophy had been filled by the time he managed to finish his schedule. I grunted.

“I’m fine,” I answered quietly, leaning my chair back on two legs as I watched him drop my back pack on the floor. It thudded loudly.  It was obvious I didn’t like using my locker.

“Uh-huh. Roe told me about her vision,” Conor whispered.

I let my chair drop so hard, it jarred me from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. Even my hair vibrated.

“Huh?” I mumbled dumbly. Had she really? Conor shrugged.

“She seemed disturbed by it, Red.”

“Well, yeah . . . we both were."

 Conor noticed the scowl on my face. It just wasn’t like Monroe and me to skirt around an issue. But we had done that. Both of us. She had gone to Conor, and I still hadn’t told her about the weird conversation with Grayson, or the confrontation with Aunt Kyra. The window incident had been disturbing enough.

“Look, we back each other up when something is bothering us. And she had a right to be worried. What if it wasn’t a vision?”

I shivered. My room was high enough up it had to be a vision.
Had
to be. 

“You don’t have to be all detailed about it. It already has me scared shitless,” I told Conor crassly.

Conor leaned forward and grinned.

“Think your aunt would be freaked out if I camped outside your window?”

He wrapped one of my curls around his finger before pulling it slightly. I laughed and slapped his hand hard enough it made him rub it with a scowl.

“She’d have you hanged, you big flirt. Besides, I’m sure it’s not my window you want to lie outside of,” I said. He frowned.

“It’s not?” 

His eyes caught mine a moment. The emotions I saw there bothered me, and I gave him my best "be serious" look. He shrugged.

“I’m the quintessential knight."

I rolled my eyes. A tapping sound made us look up.

“Mr. Reinhardt, Ms. Blainey, if you two would please refrain from conversing in my class, I would appreciate it,” Mr. James announced loudly. I hadn’t even heard the bell. Conor shrugged.

“I’m afraid she’s a lot prettier than you, Mr. James. I got a little distracted.”  

Laughter filled the classroom. My cheeks burned. I was going to kill Conor! Mr. James’ jaw tightened, but he seemed unwilling to waste anymore of his class time punishing the two of us. Conor winked at me.

“Let’s just get back to the topic at hand, shall we?” Mr. James asked before turning back to the board.

My mind wandered as he began talking about the philosophy of Camus, the most recent chapter we were on. The fact that Monroe had talked to Conor meant the vision had been more disturbing than she had admitted to me. What had she really seen? How much more detailed had it been? Anxiety filled me.

More than halfway through the class, Conor tapped me on the back and pointed at the front of the room. Mr. James was looking at me expectantly. I sat up straight.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

Some of my classmates snickered but most just felt sorry. None of us truly paid attention. Honestly, many of us just had too much going on to concentrate. Mr. James took a few steps down the aisle.

“I wondered what your opinion about life after death was, Ms. Blainey. Each philosopher had a theory about death. I was curious to hear a student's perspective."

His scornful tone made me nervous, and I eyed him before looking around the room. Lodeston was a small town with the majority of the acreage owned by the Abbey. Everyone here knew I lived there. It wasn’t a secret. And it hadn't made me the most popular student. If it wasn't for my association with Conor and Jacin, I'd be nonexistent.

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?” I asked.

Mr. James shrugged and leaned against an empty desk a few feet away from me.

“We’re all aware of your upbringing, Ms. Blainey. But I’m asking for your opinion, not your aunt’s."

My shoulders tensed, and I could feel Conor sitting up behind me. I tried to let him know not to interfere. Mr. James might be walking the "family" line but I had been the one to bring it up. It was my bad.  

“I’m not sure what you want, Mr. James. I believe in God. I believe in Heaven and Hell,” I said flippantly.

I didn’t like reminding people I lived at the Abbey. It made me stare at Mr. James hard. He was a young teacher, strict but incredibly good looking. Most of the girls at the school were in love with him. He disturbed me.

“I want your in-depth opinion, Ms. Blainey. We know the basics of modern day religion. I’m talking about death. Camus believed that there was a void after death. Once we died, that was it. We must live life while we have it to live. What do you believe death holds for you? If you believe in Heaven, then what do you believe waits for you there?”

 I looked at the clock. Five minutes till the bell. I refused to say what first came to mind. Conor raised his hand behind me.

“I’ll answer,” he said, knowing, I’m sure, what I was afraid to say out loud.

Mr. James came to stand beside my desk, his gaze looking down into mine.

“I asked Ms. Blainey, Mr. Reinhardt,” he said firmly. I cringed.

“Your answer, Ms. Blainey."

I was getting angry, my cheeks flushed.

“Angels, I suppose,” I said. “Streets of gold—”

Mr. James didn’t give an inch.

 “Your true opinion, Ms. Blainey. Not a guess,” he ordered.

His knuckles rapped my desk. I jumped. Conor stood up.

“Yo, dude—”

Mr. James rapped my desk again. Harder this time.

“Your opinion, Ms. Blainey!” he said. I flinched, tears burning the back of my eyes. He rapped yet again and I snapped.

“My parents!” I cried out just as the bell rang. A tear slid down my cheek. Mr. James nodded.

“Was that so hard, Ms. Blainey?” he asked as he walked away.

The rest of the students slowly gathered their things and walked out the door, some glancing surreptitiously in my direction. Conor scowled at them all.

“That bastard!” he exclaimed as he held his hand out to me.

I stared at it a moment. What had been the point of that?

“You okay?” he whispered as I finally took his hand. Mine was sweaty. His was warm and dry.

“I’m okay."

I didn’t look at Mr. James as I followed Conor out of the classroom. Conor threw the bird at his back.

“Why should he jump you like that?” Conor complained, echoing my own thoughts as Monroe came up on us in the hall. I glimpsed Lita and Jacin beyond, but I was too upset to socialize. Monroe looked from me to Conor.

“What the hell?” she stated as she saw my red eyes and Conor’s deep scowl. Conor shook his head.

“That jackass, Mr. James,” Conor said before handing me my back pack. He had gym last period. Out of all of us, Conor had the easiest five period senior schedule.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

I nodded, and he flicked my chin before turning to head for the gymnasium. Monroe’s gaze followed him a moment before turning back to me.

“What happened?”

I didn’t think I could talk so I opened my mind up to Monroe. She couldn’t read thoughts but if you projected them at her, she could see images. Her eyes widened.

“The bastard!”

I smiled for the first time since the bell.

“I think you and Conor are on the same wavelength. Anyway, it’s no big deal. Let’s just go,” I said as I pulled her along to our last class.

I smiled at Lita and Jacin as we walked by. They gave me raised brows. I was okay. Really I was. Even if Mr. James' voice kept penetrating my thoughts.
What do you believe death holds for you?

***

All five of us met at Monroe’s house after school. It was something we’d done since being put on probation the year before. We had fulfilled our community service two months ago, but my aunt still thought I was working off my time.

“Try not to get the couch wet, please,” Monroe said to Conor as the rest of us threw ourselves down haphazardly around the living room. He had come straight from the gym showers.

Conor shook his head, grinning as water droplets hit us in the face. Monroe growled.

“Fight it out in a ring, you two,” Jacin joked.

I laughed, and Lita joined in. Monroe might enjoy a good wrestling spar, but I was pretty positive Conor had more interesting ideas for relieving angry tension. Conor winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. Lita began twirling a skull-covered cigarette lighter around in her fingers as Monroe popped a piece of gum into her mouth. She handed me a dumdum lollipop. We all had our addictions, though we were all trying to get Lita to quit hers. She wouldn’t light up in Monroe’s house, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to.

“How long do you think it’s going to take your aunt to realize we’ve done our time?” Lita asked me lightly. I shrugged. I honestly didn’t care.

“At this point, I don’t think I could get her any angrier."

Monroe didn’t look convinced. Her face was shadowed. Conor must have noticed it too.

“I don’t know. I think you need to be more careful, Red,” Conor said.

Monroe seemed relieved by his statement. She let out a pent up breath. I looked around the room. Everyone was trying to avoid my gaze. My eyes narrowed.

“Now would be a good time to tell me what’s going on."

Conor came to sit beside me, one arm stretched casually behind my head. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable even if it should. He was familiar with anything female.

“We’re just worried,” Conor said. I looked up into his face.

“Because of one vision?” 

I saw Monroe shift uncomfortably from the corner of my eye. She seemed willing to leave the explanations up to Conor. Conor touched my shoulder lightly.

“It’s more than one vision, Red. Monroe did a scrying last night."

I sat up straight, my back hitting Conor’s arm as I did so. A scrying, I knew, was the Wiccan method of divining the future or getting a clearer perspective on something. Monroe came to sit at my feet.

“Now, Day. Don’t get angry. Please. What I saw . . . something’s wrong."

I looked down at her. I wasn’t Wiccan, but I knew from being friends with Monroe as long as I had that scrying wasn’t accurate. Lita sat forward, her elbows on her knees as the lighter started flipping faster. She was a part of Monroe’s Circle.