by Hayden, Sean
I left the door open, looked around to make sure no one else needed to have their memories altered, and left to go find Jessie.
* * *
I slipped back into the mall and made my way back to Angelique’s as fast as I could. I prayed silently that Jessie was still in there and not wandering around looking for me. I peered in through the window, hoping to see her there without any luck.
“Damn it.”
“Damn what?”
I spun around. Jessie was standing behind me holding a shopping bag in one hand and her other on her hip, her stance slightly cocked.
“Er… Um…” I didn’t even need to see the look in her eye to know she wasn’t happy. Whenever a girl had one hand on her hip and was standing crooked, it was never good. I had been gone an awfully long time.
She started laughing. “What didja get me?” She glanced around my person, trying to see if I was holding any shopping bags. Her eyes narrowed. “Where were you?”
“Jess, do you honestly think I would walk up to where I thought you were shopping with a bag clearly labeled with the store’s emblem where I bought your Christmas present? Do you give me such little credit?”
“Um… I guess so,” she said with a smile. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting me some video game or something for Christmas…”
“Would I do that to you?”
“If you thought I would grow an obsession over video games so I would be the perfect girlfriend, then yes.”
“Sweetie, you’re already perfect. If you played video games, my head would probably explode.”
“Gasp! Are you telling me I don’t already blow your mind?”
I could tell she was only playing. “Blow, boggle, scramble, frappe, and twenty other blender settings.”
She laughed. “So where were you then?”
“Scouting.”
“Like building fires and earning badges?”
“No. Scouting for the perfect gift for the girl who blenders my brain.”
That earned me a kiss. “I love you, too.”
“So… What’s in the bag?” I tried to peer into it, but everything appeared to be wrapped in gold and white tissue paper.
‘“Nunya.”
“What’s a nunya?”
“Nunya damn bidness,” she said and gave me a light punch in the chest.
“I can live with that. Just answer me one question; are the items in the bag intended for me or are you buying them for other people?”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait ‘til Christmas to find out.”
It felt like the temperature of the mall rose several hundred degrees. “Okay then. Want to get something to eat?”
“Sure, but I’m buying.”
“I can live with that, too.”
Chapter 13
The school bell rang. Everyone rose at once and practically ran for the door. There was no sweeter sound on a Monday afternoon that the bell to go home. Under normal circumstances, anyway. While everyone else got to go home, play video games, and have a snack, I got to go to the clearing and have the snot beat out of me.
As I slowly walked to my locker, I thought again of Raven. While Clarisse and Darius were convinced of her innocence in Jenny’s murder, I still had my doubts. While everyone might be considered innocent until proven guilty, the circumstances around the incident were just a little too convenient.
I opened the door to locker 636, stuffed what books I wouldn’t need for homework inside, and slammed the door. I gave the dial a quick spin to make sure it locked and turned to look around for Jess.
She was walking toward me talking to Clarisse, which was a little strange. Clarisse was a senior and her locker was on the opposite end of the school.
“Hey, worm,” she said as she and Jess got close enough to talk.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere torturing someone?”
“No. Torture Tuesdays. Today is Manicure Monday. I’m off to get my nails did before I have to get to work. See ya later. Bye, Jessie.”
“Bye, Claire.” Jessie slipped up next to me and slid her arms around me. “Want to come over?”
“I can’t. At least not for a while.”
“What have you been doing after school every day? You still haven’t told me.”
I panicked slightly. “Well. Your Christmas present isn’t going to pay for itself. I’ve been doing some manual labor every day to save up.”
Jess pulled back and stared up at me in shock. “Did you… Did you get a job?”
I laughed at her dramatics. “Yes.”
“Where?”
“Doing some work for one of Dad’s friends.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Hey, Jess. Guess what. I’m joining the workforce in order to purchase a Christmas present for you so I don’t feel like a useless jerk of a boyfriend. See why I didn’t tell you?”
She stilled for a moment and reached out with her hand, setting it on my arm. “Hey. You do know you don’t have to buy me stuff right? I love you for you, not for Christmas presents.”
Well shit. That made me feel like a total ass for lying to her. Telling her I had a job just seemed simpler than telling her I was being trained to reap souls and control my magic. “I know. I want to.”
She nodded in understanding. “Okay. Don’t work too hard. Call me when you get off,” she said and gave me a quick kiss before heading out to her car.
I watched her go. I had been lying more and more to cover what was really going on with my life. It left an empty pit in the center of my stomach. Just when I told myself I would always tell her the truth, too.
I let the thought drift away. I was only doing what I had to do. I knew there was no way Jessie could know. Even if she turned into one of the Chosen, I don’t think I could ever tell her exactly what I did as a Fallen. I didn’t even like to think about it myself.
* * *
I stepped silently into the clearing, parking my scooter a good ways back into the thick woods surrounding it. I didn’t see any sign of Raven, but then again, I rarely did.
I called my swords and walked inside, spinning slowly, waiting for an attack I was sure would come. I listened as well as looked. There were no sounds. No birds were chirping and even the wind, usually so prevalent in November, was still.
I felt her only seconds before she attacked from the one place I wasn’t watching: above. She swooped down and landed, swinging her long sword down in an arc that would have cleaved my head like a pineapple if I hadn’t crossed my swords above me at the last possible nanosecond.
“Good!” She stepped back and twirled, slicing at me from the side. “How did you know I would be attacking from above?”
I blocked her blade with one of mine and attacked with the other, which she easily swatted aside. “I felt you above me? Does that make sense?”
“Perfect,” she said and attacked again with dizzying speed, her blade keeping pace with both of mine. “You’re learning quickly.”
“Clarisse was a good teacher.”
“But I am better,” she said and slammed one of my blades, twisting hers as she struck. Somehow, her move pulled the blade from my hand and it disappeared into nothingness as soon as it left my grip. She concentrated her attacks on my unarmed side. Reaching across my body to defend was difficult, but I managed. Barely.
I felt her blade slice across my arm, drawing blood. I hissed and brought my sword back across in a feeble attempt to strike her across her chest. My blade missed, but my second one, which I had called back into being mid-swing, didn’t.
I felt the tip slow as it met cloth and then the flesh of her arm. Had it been the one holding her blade, she might have even dropped it. “Very good!”
Her wound didn’t even slow her down.
If anything, it drove her forward in a frenzied attack that I had little chance of seeing, let alone defending against. “I can’t!”
“You can. You’re thinking like a human again,” s
he said. “You’re as fast as you think you are. Push yourself.”
“I’d try if I wasn’t so worried about being turned into hamburger meat!”
She stopped swinging her blade. I stepped back. “Fine,” she said and banished her sword. She called two wooden sticks, vaguely shaped like my twin swords, into existence. She was ridiculously fast with one blade. She was a Cuisinart with two sticks.
She showed little mercy, either. I was battered by her batons multiple times before I even began to try to concentrate on what was happening. She pummeled my arms, sides, and even hands while I watched hopelessly. Her movements were a blur.
“Don’t watch my blades. Watch my arms,” she said and didn’t relent with her attacks.
I did as she said. Instead of trying to follow the blades, I watched her forearms. I could tell the direction of her attacks and where to place my swords to block them. Her movements didn’t slow, but they appeared to.
“That worked,” I said as the sound of wood on steel echoed through the clearing.
“Good. Now I’m going to start to attack faster. Try to keep up.”
She fell into a rhythm. Hack, hack, cross, and then a downward stroke. I didn’t even think of moving to the offensive. I concentrated on following her movements. The sounds of our blades sped up and up, slowly though. She started sliding her feet to the right. We began to spin in the middle of the clearing, constantly facing each other as we weaved in an intricate dance. When both of us had become a blur, she changed the pattern of her attack. My eyes picked up her new movements immediately and my arms moved to match. She nodded her approval.
Then her attacks became chaotic, following no rhythm at all. She attacked with her left arm twice and then once with her right. I blocked all three. She switched the pattern and I parried every one. She became a whirlwind of movement and my body became a cyclone that matched her perfectly.
“You’re getting it now. Instead of just blocking, add attacks of your own.”
“I’ll try.”
Our dance picked up even more momentum. I tried to see openings where I could attack and saw none. At first. Slowly, I noticed gaping holes where her blades should have been and I realized she was using the obvious openings to help me see them better. The problem was they were gone before I could take advantage of them.
“You can see the openings, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you attack me?”
“I’m not fast enough.”
“Yes. You are. Don’t ever forget that. Try again,” she said and continued leaving gaps in her defense.
I brought my blade up to block hers. She opened her defense. Instead of moving my arm down to take advantage, I willed it. I imagined my hand moving at the speed of light and slipping my blade in the hole she had created.
It worked.
Her other blade left its place blocking my sword and moved to parry. “Perfect! I’ll make a damn swordsman out of you, yet.”
I felt the smile creep its way onto my face. She continued to leave openings, and I continued to take advantage of them until it became almost second nature.
“That’s enough for today,” she said and wound down her attacks until we faced each other, unmoving.
I was breathing heavy. Raven was not. I stared at her for a good long moment and just looked. She, too, was staring. I hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were red. Not glowing red, just red. It almost looked like she wore colored contacts. That tiny splash of red was the only bit of color on her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“Another one.”
She nodded. “Something is obviously on your mind.” She tossed her wooden batons away and backed up a few paces. “What is troubling you, young one?”
“Did you reap a young vampire in the woods the other night?”
Her eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in suspicion. “I haven’t reaped souls upon this earth in a very long time. Why would you ask?”
“My sister and two of her friends were attacked, even though none of them broke the Law. My sister’s friend was killed. The Reaper wore all black.”
“Ahh, I see. So you naturally thought it could be the stranger in your land, who happened to match the description.”
“Just a thought,” I said in my defense.
“And what makes you think I would admit to the crime?”
“You seem honest and you didn’t know one of them was my sister. I thought you might…”
“Your instincts on my presumed response are accurate even if your instincts that I might have done the deed are not. Did you tell anyone of the incident?”
I nodded. “I called Clarisse and Darius. They told me it wasn’t you and explained their reasoning. It seemed sound, but I can’t think of anyone else who would even be a suspect.”
“Leave it to Darius. He is the leader of the Reapers. He will find out who did it.”
I nodded, sighed, and sat down in the cold grass, ignoring the sensation against my backside. “I will.”
“Was she a friend of yours?”
I nodded. “She wasn’t at first, but she became one.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. Are we going to practice magic?”
“Not today. You did quite well and I am very pleased. That is enough practice for the day. Tell me about your experience.”
“What experience?”
“You reaped a soul this weekend, did you not?”
I nodded. “How did you know?”
She sniffed the air. “I can smell the soul. Part of its essence still clings to you.”
I lifted my arms and sniffed my pits. I put deodorant on before I went to school. I could still smell that, but little else. “You can?”
“Yes. The twisted souls of those who break the Law leave a sour odor on everything they touch.”
“I can’t smell anything.”
“Youngling, when you have lived as long as I have, you will. Don’t forget, we grow in power as the centuries pass.”
“We do?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of scary.”
“It can be. Especially when those who do not wield their power properly continue to gain it.”
“You mean me?”
“No. Another. Go home. Enjoy the rest of your day,” she said and turned, crossing the clearing and vanishing once again into the woods.
I stood and made my way back to my scooter, mulling over everything I had learned and everything she had told me. The tiny doubt I had that she might have been the one who killed Jenny was long gone. I don’t know why, but I believed her. Raven was scary, damn scary, but she also seemed sad above everything else. Sad and honest.
Chapter 14
The sensation of sunlight streaming through my window and shining on my face woke me out of my sound sleep. The smell of toast permeated my room and caused my stomach to growl intensely. I wasn’t used to waking up on a weekday without an alarm blaring angrily at me for ten to fifteen minutes. I smiled. I loved holidays. Especially Thanksgiving.
I hopped out of bed, straightened my jeans, which had twisted around my waist while I slept, and headed downstairs. Cae was sitting on the couch watching the parade on TV. Mom was in the kitchen chopping onions and celery, and Dad was sitting at the kitchenette table with two toasters and six loaves of bread in front of him. I smiled. Dad always insisted on making the stuffing every year. I didn’t have the heart to tell him, but it sucked. It was the consistency of wet concrete and gave me heartburn every year from the sheer amount of spices he encrusted it with. It did, however, smell awesome. Especially when it was cooking inside the turkey.
My stomach growled. Turkey, I thought and grinned, practically drooling down the front of my T-shirt. “Mornin’,” I said, yawned, and made my way to the coffee pot.
“Since when do you drink coffee?” Mom was looking at me quizzically.
“I don�
��t. But it smells good.”
Her quizzical stare turned into one of utter bewilderment. “It’s cold and three hours old. It’s not coffee you’re smelling. Your father probably burned some toast.”
I shrugged, poured a cup, and popped it in the microwave for a minute. When it dinged, I pulled it out and sniffed the mug. “Nope, it was the coffee.”
I set the mug down and looked at the black liquid. My experience with coffee was limited to caramel macchiatos and frappés. I had no idea how I liked, or even if I did like, regular coffee. Mom drank hers with cream and sugar. Dad drank his black. I shrugged and decided to try it Dad’s way first. I could add non-dairy powdered creamer and sugar to it, but it would be a bitch taking it out if I didn’t like it.
I brought the mug to my lips and ignored the burning sensation. I could take a fireball to the face and not get scorched. I doubted a little hot coffee would hurt me. I gulped some of it in my mouth and screeched like a little girl when it scalded my tongue. I rubbed it against the roof of my mouth until sensation returned.
“Careful, honey. It’s probably hot.”
I managed to refrain giving my mom a scathing look for winning the understatement of the year award. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t get pissy with me, mister. You’re the dummy who decided to gulp scalding hot coffee.”
I sighed. I hated it when she was right. “I know.” I went to go sit next to Cae, snagging a piece of toast from Dad’s table as I walked by.
“Hey. At least put some butter on it, you thief.”
“Can’t have butter, Dad.” I was going to have to stencil it on their arms or something. With a tattoo gun.
“Is Jessie coming for dinner?” Mom had to yell over the sound of the announcers giving their float by float commentary on the television.
“No. She and her dad have a long time tradition of ordering Chinese food and watching movies. I told you that last week.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s okay.”
“What about Claire?”
I could hear the apprehension in her voice. I don’t think my mom was truly convinced that nothing was going on between her and I. “I didn’t ask her.”
