7
The rest of the day, everyone lounged around the common area with their cell phones. The flat screen TV on the wall blared an African nature show on PBS.
I sat alone in a corner, staring down at what was apparently my phone. Teach had handed them all out, and Kasey Morrison’s name was taped to the back. I frowned down at the screen, a picture of a cat sticking out its tongue. The case, of course, was covered in rhinestones. I’d been hoping for some useful contacts, namely Mom, so I could tell someone about the demon I saw. But all that was listed were a couple pizza places, somewhere called The Coveted Closet, and someone who was entered as Bytch. Since I liked being alive, I was smart enough to never call my mom that, so I knew that wasn’t her. Lastly, there was Zane. Interesting.
Out of curiosity, I dialed Bytch. After a few rings, it went to voice mail.
“You’ve reached Dana at the Jonesborough Division of Probation and Parole. To reschedule an appointment press nine, or go online to—”
I hung up. Apparently I didn’t care for my probation officer. I put her on the list of people I needed to talk to, if for no other reason than to find out why I’d been sent here.
My finger hovered over Zane’s number. After a few seconds of hesitation, I clicked on it. Again, straight to voice mail. With a frown, I clicked on the send message option.
We need to talk.
Minutes passed without a reply.
I gritted my teeth. Mom always said that apologies were falsehoods, and that if we were really sorry we wouldn’t do the things that required them in the first place. Tools of polite society, she called them. She believed that people were only truly sorry for getting caught. Of course, Mom dealt mostly with the scum of humanity and eventually had them tortured into demons. I wouldn’t have ever done anything to Zane especially since I’d never done something to Zane.
I needed more of a human touch. I took in a deep breath and texted: I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. Then I added: Meet me in the gym at 11.
Several more minutes passed without his reply. Still, my gut told me I’d done the right thing.
I glanced up from my phone, and my gaze landed on Elia, who perched on an ottoman against the opposite wall. She folded in on herself, appearing so small and fragile underneath that big tan knit hat of hers.
She smiled at me and waved. I waved back. It was nice to be acknowledged with something other than a death glare.
Later that night shortly before eleven, I lay down on my mattress, which felt slightly less lumpy and no longer smelled like urine. Hurray for small miracles.
Beside me, Elia winked and whispered, “Mikey’s in for a surprise. I switched his mattress with yours.”
I covered my mouth to suppress a chuckle. I liked this girl. When everyone’s breathing grew deep and regular, I noiselessly got out of bed, reached for my shoes and bag, and tiptoed out of the dorm for the gym.
Other than a sleeping man propped up in a chair in the hallway who I guessed was meant to guard the place, the hallways were empty. So was the gym when I got there. No Zane yet. Maybe he wouldn’t come.
I slumped onto the bleachers, going through my bag. Near the bottom and tucked into a corner, I found a bunch of random keys which might come in handy, but not much of anything else useful.
With a sigh, I tapped my foot against the smooth, wooden floor. After about twenty minutes, I banged my fist down on the bleacher and stood. Okay, so he wasn’t coming. I could deal.
As soon as I started the trek out of there, the door at the other side of the gym squealed open. A smile tugged at my lips. Zane stood in the doorway with an expression like he was contemplating something major, his purple-blue eyes gazing at me through his adorably thick glasses.
I mirrored his dour mask and scanned him up and down because I didn’t know where else to put my eyes. He wore a tight black T-shirt that was inside out and a pair of jeans, all of which accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame. No one should be that delicious-looking.
“I’m an idiot,” he said as he sauntered toward me.
I lifted an eyebrow.
“For meeting you. Nice pajamas.”
I crossed my arms over my chest in a lame attempt to cover all the cat paw prints. “Nice, uh...everything.”
Wow. Way to play it smooth, Kiera.
He pretended to ignore my compliment vomit. “So, what am I doing here?” I opened my mouth to answer when he added, “Are you still on this, ‘I’m from Hell’ crap, or are you going to tell me why you were a no-show on the most important night of my life?”
I sighed, but then something else occurred to me. “Hey, I texted you earlier.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s how I knew to meet you here.”
“No, I mean you skipped group. How did you even get a cell phone if you weren’t there?”
His forehead wrinkled, sliding his glasses down his nose a little. He pushed them back up, and something about that simple gesture was sexy as Hell. “You know I never turned in my cell phone. Miss Molly has a fake.”
Hot damn, that was a genius idea. “What if you get caught?”
He shrugged. “Then I get caught. What if you get caught being out after ten o’clock curfew? Now, no more changing the subject.”
“Right.” I snapped my fingers. “I can prove I never betrayed you.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “If anything else, this should be entertaining.”
“Come on.” Without explanation, I headed for the double doors leading outside.
“Why?” he called from behind me.
“Just come on!” I opened the door, propped it open with an orange cone, and looked back, but he hadn’t moved an inch. “You came to the gym, right? Might as well see something cool.”
He sighed heavily and then followed me outside over the cracked basketball court. The air felt wet and thick like I could reach out and touch it. The moon rode a thick ribbon of clouds through the blowing tree branches. Our footsteps matched the tempo of loud cricket chirps laced with a ripple of thunder across the night sky.
“I can’t see anything out here,” he said before bumping into me.
His elbow brushed my arm, and a sudden thrill shot through my blood.
He rustled around in his pocket and pulled out his phone. Seconds later, a sheet of bright light hit the ground. He swung it around, momentarily shining it in my face. I raised a hand to block the light while spots discoed through my vision.
“Thanks,” I said drily.
He lowered the phone. “Well? Let’s get this over with.”
“How about some patience?”
His lips twitched. “I think I left it somewhere with my trust.”
I arched an eyebrow. Okay, then. This could be a lot more difficult than I thought. I shook the doubts from my mind like cobwebs out of an old rug. What teenage guy didn’t love this type of stuff? Sneaking out after curfew. Wandering around at night with a girl…and maybe a demon lurking in the shadows.
I scanned the area, but Zane’s phone light and the cloud-covered moon only seemed to intensify the darkness. The smell of the oncoming rainstorm, laced with dumpster, filled my nose instead of brimstone. Right now, anyway. Hopefully that demon had been caught. Maybe Metatron had seen it and let Mom know about it so she could prevent that from happening again. Only it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
We came to the nearby dumpster, and I turned to face him. “Get ready to freak out!”
“I’m so ready.” He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes up at a streak of lightning.
“Feast your eyes on that.” I swept my arms toward the brick wall flanking the metal door that led to the kitchen.
He glanced at me as if I’d sprouted horns. “It’s a door.”
“No.” I shook my head in exasperation. “Look at the bricks. Shine your light on them. Don’t you see it?”
He did as I requested, the light from his cell following the gently curved lines of angel wings etched
into the bricks on either side of the door.
“Metatron did that when he came to visit me earlier,” I said.
A strange noise came out of Zane’s throat—like a toad barking. He stumbled forward and placed his palm against the outline. “Metatron.”
“You know, the Chancellor of Heaven? He came to check up on me, said he had a bad feeling, and that my grandparents still want me to come live with them.”
He jerked as if my words had zapped him and shuffled backward. As he closed his eyes, the clouds rearranged themselves in the sky. A zigzag of lightning brightened the side of his face, highlighting a sharp cheekbone, and rain began to pelt down onto the pavement. He gazed up, staring at the raindrops like they were puzzle pieces he couldn’t quite fit together. They matted strands of his hair against his forehead and plinked against his glasses.
“Zane?” I asked, inching toward him. “Are you okay?”
His eyes popped open, as wide as small moons. He rubbed his hands down the sides of his face. “Did…did you just ask me if I was okay?”
I nodded. His question kind of sounded like an accusation. “You seem spooked.”
He threw his head back and barked laughter. The rain batted against us as thunder shook the night sky. I raised my arm to combat the splash.
“Spooked?” The word practically ripped from his lips. “Where is the puncture mark?”
I squinted. “The…what?”
He ran his sinewy fingers across his neck. “From when you dosed me. You did it the first time the night I went to go see my dad, didn’t you?”
“I—dosed you?”
He held his finger up toward me. “Please stop repeating what I say. I already feel crazy enough.”
The last two words of his sentence echoed inside of my head. Why did he think he was crazy? And why did he think I’d “dosed him” the night he’d gone to see his dad? Had something happened? But something had happened. He’d said he’d ended up in the nurse’s office.
“What happened to you that night?” The rain slanted down in large sheets. I shivered. “And why does the outline of Metatron’s wings bother you so much?”
“An outline that you drew!” He threw his hands up and half turned away.
“What?” Seriously? I stepped toward him, trying to read his face in the rain. “It’s not a trick.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Okay.”
“Why would I draw angel wings? That makes no—”
He closed in on me so abruptly that I backed myself into the brick wall.
“Instead of just apologizing for not showing that night, you come up with this half-baked story about Hell and princesses and…Metatron? Why not just say you’re sorry?”
I blinked up at him, baffled, the closeness of his body flushing mine. “I am. I am sorry.” For everything I did and didn’t do, but also about whatever he wasn’t telling me.
With a growl, he turned and barged to the double doors of the gym and grabbed the handle. “I can’t believe I thought you were anything more than a problem teen cliché.” He looked over his shoulder, and the perfect mask of contempt on his face stole my breath. “Just…stay away from me.”
He stormed back inside, leaving me there with my spinning thoughts in the pouring rain.
My boots squeaked against the wooden floor as I followed him into the building, so I took them off and crept back to the girls’ dormitory. The hallways were still empty, thankfully. The only noise was the muted sounds of the storm rolling in.
I rounded the corner to the girls’ dorm, but Miss Molly stood at the door. She had large, pink rollers pinned to her bob, her fists parked on the hips of her flannel pajama bottoms. Beside her, Agatha stood a whole head taller than Miss Molly, a smirk fixed to her stupid face.
Well, shit.
“Miss Morrison.” Miss Molly crossed her arms over the rainbow on her sweatshirt. “It seems you didn’t take my warning about breaking curfew to heart.”
I glared at Agatha, who scratched her chin with her middle finger. Classy. “I just needed some air.”
“You should have opened a window.” Miss Molly glanced at Agatha, who swept her hands behind her back. “Get back in bed, Miss Stone. I appreciate your diligence.”
Agatha nodded, gave me one last mean-girl smile, and then slipped inside the dorm.
Miss Molly stared down her nostril hair at me. “Well, Miss Morrison? What are we going to do about this?”
I was so tired of playing everyone else’s game and being treated like someone I wasn’t when all I wanted was to go home. End of story. I was done with this.
“Did you hear my question?” Miss Molly snapped.
“Yes.” My voice came out like an irritated snake’s hiss. “I just don’t give a crap.”
Miss Molly’s eyebrows lifted up to her pink rollers. “All right, wise ass. Tomorrow, you’re on bathroom duty. One more toe out of line and I’ll call your probation officer so she can decide what to do with you.”
“Great,” I said in a flat tone. “We done?”
Her beady gaze sliced into mine. “Get out of my sight.”
I brushed past her into the dorm. Quiet snickers met my ears as I stormed to my bed and threw myself under the covers without bothering to change out of my wet paw print pajamas. Placing my pillow over my head, I willed myself not to cry.
What if I was stuck here forever? Without my magic, I was useless. Despite what Mom had said about my being here for protection, this was a test—a test on my sanity, a test on my adoration for humans. And I was failing miserably. And feeling miserably.
If—when—I had my power back, something told me I wouldn’t have any trouble plucking a few choice souls. And I would joyfully start my soul-stealing endeavors at Miss Molly’s School for Troubled Teens.
8
The next morning, I rolled over in bed and pretended fascination with the wall while everyone else was up rushing through the dorm. When the sound of drawers opening and closing and shoes pounding against the linoleum stopped, I reluctantly turned around to face the day.
Elia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, adjusting her mammoth knit cap, this one a startling yellow, on her head. “I heard what happened.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “Bathroom duty is a bitchtit.”
I pulled my cat head-covered sheet up to my chin. “Yeah. Sucks to be me.”
She placed her feet on the floor and scooted toward me. “Aggie really has it in for you.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“You know, today is Tuesday…”
“Hurray for Tuesday,” I said lifelessly.
She grinned, a big one full of confidence and something else I couldn’t place. It wasn’t the smile of someone as seemingly small in demeanor and stature as she was. “So…Miss Molly is going to city hall about the school’s budget. Her office will be empty all day.”
“So?”
“So…if someone wanted to get back at a snitch, today would be the perfect day to do it.” She stood and grabbed two books from her nightstand.
I lowered my sheet, magically perking up. “What did you have in mind?”
She sighed as if it were tiring having to explain everything to me. “Our records are kept in Miss Molly’s office. And I know someone with a key.”
“Who?”
“You, you dork!” She stomped her foot toward me, and her yellow cap flopped over her eyes. “You snatched it a week after you got here.”
My mind flashed all the random keys in my bag. “Of course.” I waved my hand with a chuckle. “I’m just screwing with you.”
“Funny.” She glanced over her shoulder at the double doors and then turned back to me. “Meet me outside the office at lunch?”
The idea of raising a little Hell lifted my spirits. I nodded.
“Good.” She smiled. “The old Kasey is back. This place was getting so boring.”
* * *
I was starting to get the hang of the schedule, so I knew that when I fin
ally exited the dorm for the bathroom, first period was already underway.
As soon as I turned the corner, I bumped into Mrs. Crenshaw.
Stumbling back, I grabbed my chest. “Why are you always lurking around corners?”
She pursed her purple-painted lips together. Gone was the smart pantsuit. In its place was a pair of blue scrubs, and beside her was a cart full of cleaning supplies. “Skipping out on bathroom duty?”
I raised my chin. “Yes.” With that, I tried to sidestep her, but she blocked me with the cleaning cart.
“You’re a pain in my ass, Morrison. Don’t you think I have better things to do than to make sure you keep in line?”
I blew my hair out of my face. “Apparently not.”
She frowned, and somehow, it made her face even prettier. She did the whole severe look really well. It made me miss Mauve.
“You think you got it hard here? With a roof over your head and food in your belly?” she asked, her voice low. “Juvie is harder than this with harder people than you. You want to wind up there?”
I stared at the dirt between the linoleum tiles, not knowing how to answer without pissing her off even more.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, mistaking my silence for submission. She took me by the arm, grabbed the cleaning cart with the other hand, and dragged me until we were outside the bathroom doors. “This is the last time I’m going to handle you with kid gloves, Kasey.” She pushed the bathroom door open and gestured me through. “Now, let’s get to it.”
With a sigh, I stepped inside and gathered my hair into a messy bun so I wouldn’t accidentally dip it into a toilet. Mrs. Crenshaw handed me a pair of bright pink latex gloves and a spray bottle of yellowish liquid. To my surprise, she snapped on a pair of gloves, too.
Together, we began to clean. It didn’t take long for the strong, industrial scent of the nameless products we were using to make my eyes water and my head swimmy. Cleaning the bathroom wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be since it kept my mind occupied on something other than home.
As I dragged an old mop across the tiles, I glanced at Mrs. Crenshaw and stopped, leaning against the handle for support. “Why are you doing this?”
Daring the Devil (Reigning Hell Book 1) Page 6
