by Sarra Cannon
I didn't want to see him, but I also didn't think it was such a great idea to break up with him anymore. If his mother was indeed the leader of the Order of Shadows, it probably wasn't a good idea to piss her off right now. Especially since I was certain I wanted to find a way out of the stupid Order.
So for the time being, it seemed safer to just keep avoiding Drake for as long as I could. If I didn't see him, I didn't have to face what had happened.
I slouched lower in my plastic lunchroom chair and picked at the overcooked green beans. I checked my phone again. Still no response from Brooke. I chewed my bottom lip. How was I going to find out any of the answers I needed without letting the members of the Order know I was suspicious? I needed someone I could trust, but someone who knew about the Order.
A shadow fell over my table and I looked up. Morgyn Baker stood there with three girls I didn't know. My heart fell. This was so not what I needed right now.
“You're sitting in my freaking chair, cheerleader.” She threw her tray down onto the table with a loud clack and I jumped slightly. That only made her laugh as she sat down next to me. “What's the matter? Did your precious rich friends finally realize just how much of a reject you really are and banish you over to where the rest of us rejects hang out?”
I looked at Morgyn and her black fingernails and her shiny black pigtail braids and tried to figure out just why she hated me so much. Just a few weeks ago, I'd been a lot like her. Somewhat of a social outcast. But she didn't see me as a potential friend or even as an equal. She thought I was complete scum. Her distaste was written all over her face. I didn't answer her. Instead, I just went back to picking at my green beans.
The rest of her trio of friends sat down too, one of them pulling a chair from a nearby table. No one spoke. Maybe they were waiting for me to retreat with my tail between my legs. Or maybe they just weren't smart enough to come up with anymore insults.
“Harper, what in the world are you doing way over here?”
I looked up to see Lark and Allison standing by the table. Lark studied my table full of goths and raised one eyebrow.
“Oh hey, y'all.” I tried to think of a good lie, but I didn't have the energy for it. I opted instead for the truth. Or at least a version of it. “Drake and I got into a fight, so I was trying to hide from him.”
“Well, he's not at lunch today,” Lark said. She picked my tray up from the table, then grabbed my bookbag from the back of my chair. “So come sit with us. We missed you.”
Morgyn snorted a laugh.
“Nice chatting with you as always, Morgyn.” I stood.
“Oh no, the pleasure is all mine,” Morgyn said with a forced smile.
Lark led the way back to our table, dropping my half eaten lunch tray into the trash as we walked. “I can't believe you were going to eat that,” she said. “You know my mom sends food for you.”
I shrugged.
“Plus, Morgyn Baker? Really?” Allison sat down and took the lid off a container full of fresh strawberries. “You guys aren't friends or anything right? Because if you are, we seriously need to talk.”
“No,” I said. “In fact, I'm pretty sure she hates my guts.”
“She hates all cheerleaders,” Lark said. She handed me a turkey sandwich on homemade sourdough bread. I had to admit, it looked a hell of a lot better than the overcooked green beans I'd been contemplating.
“What does she have against cheerleaders?”
“Well, for starters, she used to be one,” Allison said.
I nearly snorted diet coke through my nose. “What? No way!”
“Yes way,” Lark said. “It's a crazy story, actually. She was the youngest girl ever to be recruited for the Demons squad. She lived at Shadowford Home back then.”
I gave Lark a sideways look. “Morgyn lived at Shadowford?”
Lark nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Moved there when she was in fifth grade I think. Then at the end of her seventh grade year, she was actually scouted for the team.”
“Morgyn Baker was a recruit?” I still couldn't believe it.
“Yeah,” Allison said. “She was talented too, from what I hear. She tried out for the squad at the end of seventh grade and was scheduled to start with the team her eighth grade year.”
“Only she never did.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“That's the crazy part,” Lark said. “Apparently, her grandmother just shows up out of the blue and claims her. No one even knew she had a grandmother who was still alive.”
“What happened to her parents?”
“They died in a car accident when she was ten or something,” Allison said.
“That's when she was sent to Shadowford to live,” Lark said. “Anyway, her grandmother moved to Peachville, took custody of Morgyn and pulled her from the cheerleading squad.”
“Why?”
“No one knows.” Lark took a bite of her sandwich, and I waited for her to chew it up so she could continue the story. “I guess her grandmother has something against cheerleaders. Maybe that's why Morgyn hates us all now.”
Either that or she was bitter that she couldn't learn to control her powers. Like Agnes. A chill slid down my back like a sliver of ice. This new information suddenly made Morgyn Baker very dangerous.
School Pride
I excused myself early from lunch with the girls and ducked into the library for some research. I'd actually been meaning to go in there for a while. Ever since I'd found my mother's picture in that spare bedroom at Shadowford.
“Can I help you?” An elderly woman with short gray hair greeted me when I walked in.
“I hope so.” I smiled my best student smile. “I am doing a paper for my social studies class and since I'm new to the Demons cheer squad, I thought I'd write about past squads and the girls who were on them. You know, show my school pride.”
The woman's face lit up and she ushered me to a room full of newspaper clippings, yearbooks and other historical information about the school. “You can see pictures of all the different squads here in these yearbooks,” she said. “You should be able to find the names of the girls under the picture and in some of the articles. If you need any help, just let me know.”
“Thanks so much,” I said.
“It's no problem dear. My name is Mrs. Willow. I'll be out front if you need me.”
I started with the yearbook from four years ago. That should have been the year Morgyn Baker was in eighth grade, and I hoped to find a picture of her on the cheerleading squad. I knew they took the annual photo just before practices started in the summer, so it was possible she would be pictured there.
I quickly flipped to the sports section and searched for pictures of the cheerleaders. There, just past the football team picture, was a picture of the entire squad. Morgyn Baker was not there. Disappointed, I closed the yearbook and put it back where I found it. She must have gotten off the team before they even took the team photo.
But what about the tattoo ritual?
It was the very first thing they did once a girl was chosen for the team. The tattoo came before the picture, before practice, even before the girls were ever introduced to the training room downstairs. Depending on when her grandmother got to Peachville, it was totally possible Morgyn Baker had a tattoo on her back. Come hell or high water, I was determined to find out for myself.
But before I could leave the library, there was one more thing I needed to do.
I pulled out all of the yearbooks from the years when my mother must have been in school. I flipped through them until I found the cheer squad pictures, then quickly scanned the smiling faces, looking for the face I knew I'd recognize instantly. It took me four to find her. She was sitting in the center of the cheer group, her legs off to one side and her pom-pom filled hands on her hips. She had a big happy smile on her face and her long blonde hair was pulled into pigtails.
She looked younger than I'd ever seen her. A freshman maybe? I scanned the names hungrily until I found hers
. Claire Brighton.
I stared at the name, smiling. It was like finding a piece of myself there on the pages of a book. Brighton sounded familiar, too, but I couldn't quite place it. My heartbeat quickened and my mouth went dry. I glanced at the year on the spine. 1991. I put the others back and picked up years 1991-1994 and carried them to the copier. I made photocopies of the pictures of the sports sections. I really wanted to spend the rest of the day hidden in the library looking for more pictures of my mom, but I had a stupid calculus test next period and I couldn't be late.
Calculus was a small version of hell that day. I'd been able to avoid Drake all day, but there was nothing I could do when he was sitting there in class. He looked up expectantly as the bell rang and I ran into the class. Our teacher had this thing about locking the door on test days. If you were late, you got locked out and took a zero on the exam. I barely made it to class, stepping in just before he closed the door.
I heaved a sigh of relief and took my seat. I felt Drake's eyes on me, but I didn't dare meet his gaze. Let him stew about what was wrong. I didn't want to piss his mother off, but there was nothing wrong with letting him sweat about it for a little while.
I finished my test early and gathered my books together. I walked to the front to turn it in, then asked for a bathroom pass. I met Drake's eyes as I left the room. He opened his mouth as if to say something to me, but I turned and walked away before he got the chance.
Sooner or later, I knew I would have to face him. But there were other things I needed to take care of first.
I Won't Have You Associating With Those Girls
The second I got home that afternoon, I pulled out the photocopies I'd made in the library. I went through them all, year by year. My mother got more and more beautiful as she got older. She was in a lot of the candid shots of the football games and pep rallies. I went through all of the pictures, and I identified her and as many other people as I could.
That's when he caught my eye.
At a pep rally in 1993, sitting near the top of the stands all by himself, was Jackson Hunt.
My heart skipped a beat. But that wasn't possible. In 1993, he would have been a tiny baby. I held the picture up close to my face. The boy in the picture definitely looked like Jackson Hunt. Same basic style. Same haircut.
It couldn't be him.
I searched through the rest of the photographs, trying to find another picture of the guy, but there were no others. He certainly wasn't on the football team or in any of the sports groups. It was just lucky that the shot of the pep rally had captured him up on the bleachers.
Part of me wanted to go knock on his door and demand an explanation. The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized I didn't have much to go on. The picture could be his brother or a cousin or something.
Then again, Jackson could be a vampire.
Except that vampires don't exist.
I sighed. Two months ago, I would have said demons didn't exist either, yet here I am, a descendant of one.
I wanted answers, but I had no idea where to start or who to trust.
I stared down at the scattered photos on my bed and made a decision. I might not be able to trust her, but I had a feeling Morgyn Baker could help me with some answers.
Morgyn lived in a small white house on the other side of the bridge. It wasn't hard to find her address. Her grandmother was the only Baker in the phone book. After cheer practice on Tuesday afternoon, I headed straight over to her house on my bike. With practice running so late everyday, Ella Mae had started letting me ride my bike to school.
As I pulled into her driveway, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out to see who the text message was from. Drake. I should have known.
Haven't I suffered long enough? Please call. We need to work this out.
I hit ignore, then propped my bike on its kickstand. Morgyn's house was a far cry from the houses I'd visited so far in Peachville. Instead of a mansion estate, she lived in a small boxey yellow house with peeling paint and an old washing machine in the front yard.
The weather had turned colder. I pulled my sweater close and turned my face against the wind. At the front door, I knocked lightly on the wood and waited. After a short time, the knob turned and a woman with dark auburn hair answered the door. She took me by surprise. I was expecting an older, white-haired lady, but this woman was young. She didn't look a day older than forty. More like Morgyn's mother, not grandmother.
It took me a second to find my tongue. “Excuse me,” I said, unsure of myself. “I was hoping to talk to Morgyn. Is she home?”
The woman narrowed her eyes at me. “And you are?”
“Harper,” I said. “Harper Madison. I'm new-”
“You're a cheerleader,” she said. Her voice was curt and biting. She made no move to open the screen door that separated us. “Morgyn's not home.”
“Really?” I glanced around. “Because that's her car isn't it?”
I pointed to the old green Toyota in the driveway.
The woman pursed her lips. “What do you want with my Morgyn?”
There was some rustling behind her, then Morgyn's voice soared through the room. “Grandma, who is it?”
I smiled. “There she is now,” I said.
“It's one of your cheerleader friends,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You know I don't have any cheerleader friends,” Morgyn said. She came to the door with a smile, then her expression fell. “Oh great, it's you.”
“Look, I just want to talk to you for a few minutes,” I said. “Please.”
She seemed to consider it, but her grandmother shook her head. “Absolutely not. I won't have you associating with those girls.”
Her grandmother slammed the door in my face, and I opened my mouth in shock. What the hell did she do that for? I knocked on the door again, a little louder this time. There was no answer.
Frustrated, I walked back to my bike. My phone buzzed again, and I sighed. It was going to be one of those days. I pulled the phone from my pocket, knowing full well who the message was from.
Only I was wrong.
Meet me in the school parking lot. Five minutes.
There was no caller ID, but I knew exactly who it was from. I looked up at the small yellow house and smiled.
Demons or Death
Morgyn Baker's green Toyota pulled up as the sun sank beneath the horizon. She didn't bother to get out of her car. She just pushed the passenger side door open. I sat down inside.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said.
“What do you want, cheerleader? I don't have much time, and I don't want to be seen talking to you.”
Such a nice girl. I rolled my eyes and sighed. Too bad I needed her help. Otherwise, I would be inclined to give her a piece of my mind.
“I want to know about your time on the Demons cheerleading squad.”
My statement obviously surprised her. She flipped her head toward me, her eyes wide. “I was never on the Demons cheerleading squad.”
“Maybe not officially,” I said. “But you were chosen, right?”
She put her hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.
“Listen, it's obvious you hate us, and for some reason, you seem to hate me especially. I don't exactly get it, but I can live without your undying love and devotion,” I said. “I just want to know how far you got into the...” I searched for the right word to use. “Initiation.”
“You mean, did they take me out to the sacred circle and give me some crazy tattoo?” She picked at her chipped black nail polish.
“Yes, that's exactly what I mean.”
“Why would I tell you that anyway?”
“You came out here for a reason, right?” I said. “Besides insulting me? Because you could have done that just fine from your house.”
She turned and looked me in the eye, as if she were trying to make up her mind about something.
“Look,” I said. “I completely understand why
you're not a fan of the cheerleaders in this town. Right now, I'm not so sure I'm a fan either. I wouldn't be coming to you like this unless I absolutely had to. You're the only person who has ever gotten off the squad. I need to know how you did that.”
Morgyn bit her lower lip, then took in a long breath. Her hands trembled slightly as she turned and lifted the back of her shirt. There, on her back was a tattoo of a demon that was strikingly similar to my own. I gasped. Brooke said no one else's tattoo had ever taken the form of a demon. She'd been wrong.
“Your tattoo is similar, right?”
I nodded. “I don't understand.”
“That's the way the Order wants it,” she said. “They don't want to actually tell their recruits anything, because if you knew the truth, you'd never agree to go along with their rituals. It's all about secrets with them.”
“How did you get out?” I asked the question softly. I didn't know if I could trust her, but I had to try. I needed to know, because if there was a way out, I wanted to take it.
Morgyn glanced around the parking lot. Her foot tapped nervously against the floorboard. “The only reason I'm going to tell you this is because we're the same, you and me.” She paused, and I wondered if she'd changed her mind. Then, she spoke again. “You are the Prima.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Do you know what that means? I've heard it before, but I don't think I was supposed to know, and I have no idea what it means.”
“In order for you to understand, I have to start from the beginning.”
I settled back in my chair. My breath moved high into my chest and my heart pounded.
“I'm sure you've already been taught that the witches of the Order of Shadows are all descendants of a human woman and shadow demon. For many years, the witches were a close-knit family. They were content with their powers and proud of their heritage because it was born from love. But one day, a group of sisters decided they wanted more power. They formed a group called the Order of Shadows and dedicated their lives to finding ways to increase their abilities and influence.
