The Ravenswynd Series - Boxed Set

by Sharon Ricklin Jones

  “Ow!” Fiona yelped a bit louder than necessary, quite agitated at spilling some of her popcorn.

  Someone in the next aisle said, “Shush!”

  “It’s the coming attractions!” Melinda hissed, turning to the shushing person and added in a sharp, disgusted tone, “Get a life!”

  Uneasy laughter came from a few people in the area, and even though Lindy was right, I was a little embarrassed at her short rant. The movie had not started; that person was completely unreasonable. But I heaved a sigh, wishing for once Lindy could control herself.

  We edged into our row sideways, trying not to step on any toes or spill our popcorn and drinks. When we finally arrived at our seats, I was hot and sweaty and quite agitated. I sat down hard only to hit my head on the back of the seat.

  “Oh, that’s just great!” I grumbled through clenched teeth, wondering if anything would go right this day.

  “What’s wrong?” Lindy asked, leaning forward on the other side of Fiona. Always the motherly type, she watched out for me like a hawk. Being ten minutes older than me, she never let me forget it. I shook my head as I rubbed it, nearly dropping my popcorn in the process.

  The movie might have been more enjoyable if the people in our area had been more considerate. The couple in front of us talked continuously, and the people behind us left the theater several times, somehow, always pushing into my seat with all their comings and goings. Every now and then, the person behind me would rhythmically kick my seat and I had to resist the urge to turn around and tell him to knock it off. At one point, someone behind Melinda got up to leave, and right as he edged along behind me, something sharp poked the back of my neck just below my hairline. I’d had enough and couldn’t contain myself any longer.

  “Flaming hell!” I snarled, jolting forward in my seat and grabbing my neck.

  “Sorry,” came a soft, deep whisper.

  I mumbled a few curse words under my breath while rubbing my neck. I had taken all I could stand and was ready to confront a few rude people, but when I turned around I was surprised to see most of the row was empty. I took a quick glance toward the exit thinking I’d catch a glimpse as he left, but there was no one in sight.

  I watched the rest of the movie feeling strangely agitated, and was relieved when it finally ended. We decided to wait until the theater emptied out before getting up to leave. This was a mistake. As we sat there waiting, at least three more people either bumped my head or snagged my hair, but I bit my tongue to keep from saying things I’d only regret. I couldn’t get over how rude and clumsy everyone seemed to be.

  “You’d think people could keep their hands to themselves and watch how they swing their purses in the wind!” I whispered to Fiona.

  She giggled and said, “Yeah, there sure was a lot of commotion in here today.”

  Finally, the torture was over and, as we left the theater, we deposited our trash in the receptacles near the exit and headed into the mall.

  “Let’s go shopping!” Melinda called out with a giddy laugh. Apparently, she was as happy for that ordeal to be over with as I was.

  After wandering around the mall for a few hours, we’d worked up an appetite and headed for the food court. All the different smells wafting through the air made my stomach growl. We chose the taco place, though this may have been another mistake. As luck would have it, the napkin container was empty and we three girls had to share one little piece of tissue between us. After a while, it actually started to be comical, and our giggles echoed in the huge dining area. We had bits of tomatoes, lettuce, and taco sauce flipped and dripped all over the place, and at one point Lindy spilled half of her lemonade.

  “Oh, that’s just wonderful!” Her sarcastic remark was loud and she jumped up, knocking over her chair. The surprised look on her face was hysterical. Fiona and I burst out laughing when Melinda became even more animated as she stood her chair upright with a loud clang.

  “Between taco sauce and tomatoes, I’d say you should think about wearing a bib next time, Fiona,” Melinda said snickering as she settled back into the chair.

  “I wouldn’t talk, Lindy,” Fiona said with raised eyebrows. “At least I didn’t spill my drink!” Her comeback was good, but now Fiona’s face matched her red hair.

  “I can’t believe you two!” I said, shaking my head. “You can barely act like adults.”

  Watching the two of them making faces at one another, I chuckled, “You guys always crack me up. And look at this mess!” We all started laughing at once.

  It looked like we just had a food fight at our table, but it felt good to laugh with my best friend and my dear sister. We picked up as much of the bits of lettuce and tomatoes we could without the benefit of napkins and threw our wrappers into the trash.

  “Yuck.” Lindy let out a groan, wiping her hands together and said, “Let’s go to the ladies room so I can wash my hands.”

  Our laughter echoed as the three of us walked through the long corridor side by side- Melinda in the middle. I tilted my head to the right and, as I started to say something, someone swept by my left side, brushing my arm with a strange electric tingle.

  I turned to look - and my breath froze. It was a man. A beautiful man. An astounding man. I stopped dead in my tracks. My feet were iron; the floor a magnet, holding me in metallic silence. I couldn’t blink, couldn’t pull my gaze away. Time solidified. I could only focus on him as he walked away. Away from me.

  “Lizzy?” Came a quiet question.

  I couldn’t answer. I just kept watching. His gait was smooth and refined and effortless. His long dark coat drifted, weightless. He held his head high and steady. I never saw his face. Just the back of him, but it was enough to leave an impression. An impression of grandeur. Of elegance. And his hair! It flowed far past his shoulders. Long and straight and shiny and black. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

  “What?” Melinda’s voice broke in loudly. They were back at my sides again. “Put your eyes back into their sockets, Elizabeth!”

  Still mute, I raised my arm and pointed at the precise moment he turned the corner and disappeared from view. I took a deep breath and let out a slow sigh.

  “Wow.”

  “There’s no one there, Lizzy,” Fiona said glancing down the hallway.

  She eyed Lindy with a puzzled look and asked, “Did you see anyone?”

  “Nope,” Lindy’s voice snapped after a quick glance.

  I couldn’t believe they had missed him. His hair was nearly as long as mine was. There was an absolute resplendency about him.

  “Are you two blind?” My voice was subdued by unexplained sadness.

  Melinda raised her eyebrows and shrugged, saying, “I wasn’t paying attention. I gotta get this stuff washed off my hands. I’m all sticky.” She took a few steps backwards, pushed open the door to the ladies ’ room, and left us standing alone.

  “Who did you see, Lizzy?” Fiona asked. “Close your mouth, you look silly like that. And stop pointing!” She reached over and with a soft touch, eased my arm down to my side.

  More often than not, my friend was kind beyond measure. I wondered why she acted so mean now, and why they seemed to think I had been seeing things. I knew what I had seen.

  “I don’t know,” I said, still gazing into the empty hallway. “But…he…was… amazing.” I sighed. “It doesn’t matter; he’s gone.” I closed my eyes trying to shake off his image from my mind, but it didn’t work. He was there to stay. I glanced at Fiona. She looked puzzled and her eyes narrowed in confusion. I glanced down the hallway again. It was more than empty now; it was hollow. What the flaming hell was wrong with me? And what was it about him anyway? I hadn’t even seen his face!

  I stood there for a few more minutes, dazed, waiting. But for what? I started to feel a bit foolish. Finally I said, “I guess he’s gone. Let’s go. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

  My brain did not agree with my mouth. I turned and we went into the restroom, but the whole time we were in there, al
l that was on my mind was how I hoped that we would catch up to that man before we left the mall. I had to get a look at his face. If it was at all like his presence, or his hair, it would be magnificent.

  I did not get my wish.

  CHAPTER 2

  INVITATION

  That evening I had a nightmare. It was one of those dreams that just hang around forever and pop back into your mind at only the least bit of prompting. The funny thing about it was that, when I first woke up and thought about it, I knew there was a lot more to it, but I could only remember a small but blurry scene: I was petrified and cold, and my heartbeat was wild and furious. It was dark, and everything looked fuzzy. Two men were in the midst of a ferocious fight. I heard the crackling slug of knuckles colliding on a jaw and seconds later I saw a body being flung across the room and landing with a bone-crushing thud. Vehement shouting came next, but the exact words were muffled and unclear. And then I saw feet running up a flight of stairs, one set chasing the other. The man in pursuit had long black hair. Nothing else in this dream seemed familiar or real. The fear I felt was paralyzing, and one thing stood out that was indisputable: the smell of blood was all around me.

  ***

  A few weeks went by and I couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the mall and several times a day I recalled the dream. I recognized my fascination with the man, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why this particular dream chose to haunt me. I could not make any sense of it. Not much seemed to make sense in my world anyway.

  My twin, Melinda and I had spent most of our lives isolated. All we ever had was one another. When we were three years old our parents died in a plane crash and because neither had any siblings or any other living relatives, the state placed us in an orphanage. Two years later we were placed in a foster home together. Melinda says she has no memory of our parents at all. The only memory I have of my mother is when I was sick with a fever, and she held me in her arms all night long as I fell in and out of consciousness. I believe the memory stayed with me because every time I opened my eyes I saw the frightened look on her face. And any time I’ve ever been sick since that day, I’ve been haunted by her fearful look.

  The little we knew about our parents came in bits and pieces through the years from our foster mother. She had told us they were originally from Peace Dale, Rhode Island, and they moved to Providence just after their marriage. The few pictures we had of them revealed how much we resembled our mother, especially around the eyes. I would like to believe our foster parents took both of us in after falling in love with our cute little heart-shaped faces and dark, sapphire-blue eyes. But the reality of it is more likely due to the fact that we refused to be separated. If and when anyone ever tried, our blood curdling screams caused them to re-think their actions immediately.

  Even our teachers learned their lessons quite fast. One time in grade school, the teacher tried to make my sister sit on the other side of the room, farther away from me. It only took five minutes of stereophonic, high-pitched screaming for that teacher to change her mind. It didn’t matter how much reasoning was used: we never gave up; we would not be separated - period.

  It wasn’t until our senior year in high school that we attempted to become two separate individuals. We determined together that eventually we might want to go on a date alone, possibly even kiss a boy, and we were sure none of the boys at our school would feel the inclination to ask the two of us out together. So it was then, in our last year of high school we told our guidance counselor that we both wanted to try taking a few separate classes. Melinda took the initiative to enter his office alone and told him about our decision. He just about fell off of his chair, and of course, he had to check with me first before he could change anything. By the look on his face when I entered his office, sans my sister, he was almost positive Lindy had just changed her clothes and re-entered.

  He put his pen down; a puzzled look wrinkled his face, and said, “Melinda?”

  After extensive persuasion, he finally believed I was indeed Elizabeth, and not my twin. We had decided we would try two separate classes: English and History. These two subjects being our easiest, we could study and do our homework alone, finally not relying on one another for help.

  This arrangement worked out so well that we even decided to make a few changes in our appearance. There was no one acquainted with us besides Fiona who had the ability to tell us apart, including our foster parents - not that they would take any notice even if one of us had shaved her head. We were quite sure the only reason they became foster parents was for the money.

  Halfway through our senior year, Lindy started to curl her hair. Not frizzy curls - not spiral curls. She just took a curling iron and sort of twirled the ends a little, which was not much of a change, but enough so people had at least a small clue as to who was who. We had raven black hair that hung down to our waists - pitch black and pitch straight, thick, and full with no bangs. While growing up, if anyone ever tried to cut our hair, we gave them our infamous scream. After one or two tries, our foster mother gave up the idea. We trimmed one another’s ends once or twice a year once we were old enough to handle a scissors, trusting only our love and passion for what we hoped to be our most attractive quality. It seemed like a constant struggle for me; and so much work went into keeping my hair tangle and frizz-free. Although we both invested in so many products that our bathroom overflowed into our closets with straighteners, dryers, creams and conditioners, I was convinced that Lindy’s hair was much thicker and prettier than mine was. We ended each night in our room brushing our hair together. We once read that brushing it nightly like this would make it shiny and beautiful - a crown of glory - and we knew it had to be the first thing anyone noticed about us when we entered a room. And even though we sometimes did get those envious looks, so often the only thing I liked about my hair was its length. And after Melinda took to curling hers, not only did we begin to receive more attention as individuals, but now my hair even looked longer than hers. Fellow students started to treat us like human beings instead of some sort of untouchable, inseparable twosome. It was a big change. And it was a little sad. But all in all, it had been a good decision - a decision which marked a turning point. We became less reliant on one another, and we made friends - some alone and some together. We even went out on dates with boys - separate dates that never amounted to much in the way of real relationships. We enjoyed our last year of high school learning to grow apart while still remaining best friends.

  Fiona had been our closest friend since just before junior high school. We grew even closer when she told us that she, too, had spent time in foster care, but her life seemed far sadder than ours. She had been bounced from family to family, and without any siblings, she had to endure it alone. We understood exactly how she felt; we at least had each other. Being such a dreamer and superstitious sort, Fiona had always been a huge fan of the local legends and would keep us well informed and entertained with her stories, sometimes keeping us awake at night during sleepovers, shivering as we imagined all the ghosts, goblins and vampires. She never relented. Her face would become as red as her hair if we ever acted amused or disbelieving. These fantastic stories, which she swore she had not made up, went on past high school, slowing down only a bit once we started college. But we loved our crazy, little dreamer and would not have wanted her any other way. We were wrong to think we’d spend all our college years together. Instead, we ended up with another roommate and were not able to see Fiona as often as we had hoped. She simply could not afford full tuition plus the cost of a dorm room, so she lived at home, working and going to school only part time.

  The day I was invited to the party is one I’ll never forget. I had just left my building and started down the sidewalk. The sudden winter-like chill in the air went right through me and, once again, I had the strange haunting dream on my mind, which in turn, brought back the memory of the beautiful man in the mall. Weeks later and still he was in my head. I was just about to Gage Hall when
Fiona stopped me mid-jog, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Lizzy!” she shouted, out of breath from trying to catch up to me. She took a deep breath, blew out a huge plume of steam that seemed to float in slow motion from her mouth into the frigid air. “Brr. I can’t wait for winter to be over,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver, “and it hasn’t even really started yet!”

  “Fiona, I don’t want to be late. What’s up?” I attempted to sound sincere, but was sure she noticed the tone of impatience in my voice.

  She appeared to be searching for the right words and stumbled over them for a few seconds - seconds that irritated me more and more. Why couldn’t she hurry up and just spit it out already? At this rate I’d end up missing my exam! My impatience smoldered as I felt my cheeks turn red with more than just the cold wind. I wrapped my scarf around my face pretending to be cold and I stamped my feet a few times, feigning my chill.

  “What is it, Fiona? I can’t be late for Anthropology. We have an exam today!”

  “Well,” she started out slow, “I’m wondering if you’d like to join me this Friday night.” She pulled her hood tighter and tucked in some stray wisps of red hair. “There’s a party I’ve been invited to,” she paused and seemed to struggle to get the words out, “and I’d like you to come. Everyone is allowed to invite one other person.” She raised her eyebrows and widened her green eyes. She tried to sound calm and collected, but I had known her long enough to know she was anxious. Her extreme blinking gave her away. At first, I couldn’t understand the obvious nervousness at her invitation, other than the fact that she knew I hated parties and seldom went to anything that even closely resembled one. Before I could object and run toward the building, she grabbed my arm with her brown-gloved hand.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking either, Lizzy,” she said and then lowered her voice. “This is the party of the decade. THE Party!” The way she emphasized the word sent serious chills up my spine. “The party I’ve been telling you guys about for years.”