by Kristen Day
A massive group of people had converged on the beach for the candlelight vigil, each holding a small hurricane vase with a tea light inside. The whole beach flickered and came alive as the collective glow brightened with each new arrival. Lining the beach in both directions were much larger hurricane vases with candles running parallel to the ocean. They’d been secured in the sand just out of the reach of the waves. A beautiful ornate white table had been placed in front of the row of candles, acting as a memorial. It was overflowing with beautiful exotic pink and orange hibiscus blooms and topped with several large picture frames. More colorful bouquets littered the sand below as people brought their own dedications.
As we descended the steps of the boardwalk, we were each handed our own candles smelling of white citrus. We followed Willow down to the table. The flowers were much larger than they had appeared from a distance. Intertwined with ivy and strips of lace, it was the most amazing arrangement I’d ever seen. Another hurricane vase sat in the center of the table with a single, large blue candle surrounded by pearls and turquoise stones. Willow pressed her hand to one of the frames, tears rolling down her cheeks. I gave her a light hug and faced the frame with her.
A beautiful, young woman with bright red hair framing large green eyes smiled back at me. Images of a previous reverie exploded before my eyes. A flash of red catching my attention. A couple arguing on the beach. The woman lying on her side in the sand, blood pooling around her. I could feel my own blood drain from my face. It was Nicolet that I had watched die during my blackout. Last week.
I grabbed the edge of the table to keep from falling as a wave of nausea washed over me. I turned and ran back towards the boardwalk. I slipped beneath it, surrounded by dunes and the sounds of people above. Clutching my stomach and trying to be quiet, I got sick. I started to shake uncontrollably and collapsed on the sand. I put my head in my hands, wrapped my arms around myself, and rocked back and forth. The dream wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
“Stasia?”
I looked up to see my three roommates ducking under the boardwalk to join me.
“Oh, ew.” Phoebe pinched her nose.
“Are you okay?” Willow rubbed my back, while Carmen threw sand over the spot I had thrown up on. My skin tingled everywhere her hands touched me. I slowly stopped shaking and I realized they were still waiting for my answer.
“I know it’s her. I saw him. She died.” I knew I wasn’t making sense, but it was all I could make my mouth say.
“You knew Nicolet?” Carmen looked at me, perplexed.
“No. I…I saw her hair. I couldn’t feel the wind.”
“What do you mean?” I saw them looking at each other. Probably wondering why they didn’t bring some sort of tranquilizer for the crazy girl hiding under the boardwalk. I dropped my arms and shook my head, hoping to get rid of the hazy panic hugging my brain.
“I had a dream about her. Before I came here. I saw her die. She got stabbed.”
“But, she wasn’t murdered, Stasia, and it just happened yesterday. It must have just been a dream. It’s okay.” Willow tried to comfort me.
“How could I dream about someone I don’t know?”
“Maybe it was a reverie that morphed into a dream?” Phoebe guessed. Applause erupted from the beach, meaning the ceremony was starting. I had to get myself together. Willow was supposed to be the one who needed comforting, not me.
“It’s okay, I’m okay. Let’s go back out there, I think they’re starting.” I urged them.
“Are you sure? You still look a little pale…” Carmen helped me stand.
“Yea, I’ll be fine. Promise.” I forced a smile as we made our way back out to the beach, but my legs were still shaking and I had an awful taste in my mouth.
As we walked to the front of the crowd, each person lowered their eyes at Willow and allowed us through.
“I still can’t believe she would kill herself,” Phoebe said softly, shaking her head. Suicide. They said she committed suicide, but I had seen her being stabbed. I watched her blood disappear into the sand next to her lifeless body. She didn’t commit suicide, she was murdered. At least she was according to my dream. Or reverie. How did I even know it was real? Maybe she really did commit suicide yesterday and the reverie was just a fluke. I groaned inwardly, since I had no way of knowing. If I could just remember what the man looked like. Dark hair? Or maybe brown? He was definitely big and very strong. She was no match for him. He was probably a Triton or Son of Daimon.
Son of Daimon. Finn. Why was Finn there? Was he keeping watch while the man killed her? Was he helping him? He obviously wasn’t helping Nicolet. I couldn’t shake the thought that he had something to do with it. Why else would he have been there? And if it was real, how did she just die yesterday? I had to talk to Finn. He was the only person who could tell me what happened. I swept my eyes over the crowd looking for him, hoping he may be there. Was he a murderer? Is that what he’d been Chosen for? He said himself that he wasn’t the one that had to pay the price of being Chosen. So it would make sense that the innocent people he killed would pay the price. My heart constricted at that chilling thought. My search halted as soon as my eyes fell upon Kira.
She was standing to the right of the table in a simple, black sundress. She looked like she’d been awake for days and been crying for longer. My eyes began filling with tears at her obvious pain. Next to her were two other girls who appeared just as heartbroken. The pictures on the table kept distracting me, though. It felt as if Nicolet was staring right at me through the frame; accusing me. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had seen Finn and I arguing as she was helplessly stabbed to death. I sent out a silent plea to her. I’m so sorry Nicolet. Please forgive me.
A tall, blonde woman stood in front of the table. Her white, long dress billowed out around her in the ocean breeze. She bent over and lit the blue candle inside the large hurricane vase. There was a small wreath of white flowers set atop her head, resembling a crown. Bright blue sapphires dangled from her ears, neck and wrists. Her piercing blue eyes settled upon the crowd of grievers.
“That’s Priscilla, she’s our Maven,” Carmen whispered in my ear. I stared back at her blankly, hoping for more of an explanation. “You know, the head mistress, leader, priestess, whatever you wanna call it.”
When Priscilla started to speak, my chin hit the ground and a shadow of dread fell over me. I’d heard that voice before. “We’ve come too far to have this orphan girl ruin everything.” I studied her long blonde hair, the glow she emanated. It was definitely her. I could still visualize her in my dream, gliding down the hallway with Isadora, as I tried to blend in with the wall.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we mourn the loss of a great student, friend, and Tyde; Nicolet Stephens,” she announced. The light breeze carried her voice over the crowd, “She will be greatly missed.” She went on to speak of Nicolet’s many accomplishments and what she had meant to the House of Lorelei. I heard an agonizing sob as Kira held on to the other two girls. I glanced over at Willow. Her usually flowing blonde hair had been pulled up into a messy bun and her blue eyes were splotchy and red. Her shorts and tank top were wrinkled and disheveled. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she held back her tears. I squeezed her hand.
Priscilla picked up the hurricane vase delicately, her bracelets clinking against each other. Several more women in similar flowing white dresses joined her at the table. They stood perfectly still and held hands. They were each extremely beautiful, but that wasn’t what made them so captivating. It was as if the sun shone from within them, broadcasting beauty and allure to the world. If it were possible to gather every new spring blossom, every savory smell of a summer garden, and every sparkle of morning dew and then combine them into one creature, the result would be standing before us. It was difficult to look directly at them without becoming completely overcome by their brilliance.
As they all closed their eyes, a beautiful sound like no other began flowing from them. Th
e song of a Siren. It was a haunting cry that filled the night air and wrapped around every living creature. I could feel it enter my conscious, resonate throughout my senses, and settle into my soul. It trumped my thoughts and numbed my feelings. Becoming uncomfortable with the intrusion, I pushed the sensation back out, away from my ears and back in to the breeze. Although it resisted, I was finally able to think again and felt my own emotions returning to me. Everyone around me appeared to be in some kind of trance. I looked up at Priscilla and inhaled sharply. Her emotionless eyes were boring into mine with a burning fury I could almost feel. The song ended abruptly and Priscilla immediately reverted back to her role as caring Maven. Everyone around me began moving and whispering again, but her chilling gaze stayed with me.
At the water’s edge, she scooped up a sample of the ocean in a small glass and brought it back to the table. She raised her arms, looked up at the sky, and regally proclaimed, “It shall come to pass.” Then she poured the sea water over the burning candle on the table. The second it touched the flame, the water snuffed it out. Simultaneously, every other candle on the beach and in our hands did the same. We were instantly drenched in darkness and a suffocating silence. I looked around anxiously as uneasiness began wrapping around me. No one else seemed to be worried about this sudden turn of events, so I tried to remain calm. Just as quickly as they had gone out, the candles danced back to life and the night filled with a warm glow once more. Priscilla bowed her head, walked around the table and gave Kira a small box. They turned to leave and everyone else began making their way back to the boardwalk.
As the beach cleared, Priscilla walked towards us. Her cold blue eyes locked on mine and she gave me a practiced smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She stopped in front of us, dissecting us one by one before speaking.
“Willow, it is customary that you receive a personal item of your mentor’s upon graduation.” Even at a close distance her voice held a certain amount of esteem and conviction. “Since these are extenuating circumstances, I believe you should receive that gift tonight.” She held out a purple velvet pouch with ribbon drawstrings. Willow wiped away a few tears that had escaped her eyes and anxiously untied the drawstrings; pouring the contents into her palm. A breathtaking silver ring set with a turquoise stone sat in her hand. She slipped it onto her ring finger and held it against her chest.
“This means so much to me, thank you.” Willow’s eyes were bright with tears again.
“It once belonged to Nicolet’s great grandmother. I know you will take great care of it, Willow. I know how much Nicolet meant to you.” Priscilla bowed her head towards Willow and slipped past us.
“Willow?” Kira came up behind us and I gave her the biggest hug I could manage. She held on to me tightly and I felt tears dampen my shoulder. She straightened and wiped her eyes.
“I have something for you.” She turned to Willow and handed her a piece of paper rolled up, secured with a lace ribbon. “I found this among Nicolet’s things. I think you should have it.” As Phoebe took the paper, Kira grasped both of her hands and her eyes widened with urgency.
“The contents are very old. Make sure it stays protected.”
Phoebe nodded and embraced Kira in a hug, “Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, but…what is it?”
“An old poem-“ Kira stopped as someone called to her from the boardwalk, then focused back on us, looking defeated, “I have to go.” She gave me another quick hug, and then started to walk away. Hesitating, she placed her hands on top of her Willow’s slender shoulders. “Nicolet loved you so much. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Thank you Kira,” Willow glanced down at the paper as she walked away.
“Open it, open it!” Phoebe insisted, peeking over Willow’s shoulder.
Willow slid the lace ribbon off the paper and unrolled it carefully. The piece of paper was browning around the edges and looked like it belonged to a different century. I worried that it would crumble any moment and be carried off by the wind. The words scrawled down the paper looked like a work of art, looping and swirling into elaborate designs. Unfortunately the work of art wasn’t written in English.
“What language is that?” Carmen wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” Willow turned the paper sideways, trying to make sense of it, “I’ve never seen it before. I’ll have to look through my books.”
“Let’s Google it!” Phoebe exclaimed, attempting excitement for Willow’s sake, “I love a good treasure hunt!”
“I’m pretty sure treasure hunts never include googling things,” she gave Phoebe an ‘are-you-serious look, “but if you want to put some money on it, I’m down.”
“Ten bucks,” Phoebe suggested.
“Twenty,” Carmen countered. She twirled a finger around her dark hair and lifted an eyebrow daring Phoebe to up the price again.
“Thirty.”
“Forty.”
“Okay, okay,” I put my hands up, “you’ll be selling me and Willow off by the time you settle on a price. How about whoever figures out what the paper says gets a free meal at any restaurant, paid for by the other roommates?”
“Only if that includes dessert,” Phoebe upped the ante.
“Deal.” I said.
“Deal.” Willow and Carmen agreed.
“Speaking of dessert, who wants brownies?” Willow smiled for the first time that day. Baking was her form of therapy. We took the boardwalk leading back to Maren. I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye beneath us in the dunes, but when I looked closer only saw darkness and the swaying of grass.
Chapter 17
“You’re telling me, you were in his bed and NOTHING happened. I don’t buy it.” Phoebe shook her head at Carmen. A plate full of brownies sat on the coffee table as we lounged around talking in the living room that night.
“It’s true! Logan was a total gentleman.” Carmen winked at me.
“I saw that! You liar! You better tell me what happened or I’ll throw your precious bag off the balcony!” She lunged for Carmen’s Louis Vuitton bag.
“Okay, okay!” Carmen laughed at her, “Seriously, we lit some candles, got naked….and played poker.” She shrieked as Phoebe started throwing pillows at her.
“I hate you. I’ve only had one boyfriend and on one of our dates, mom drove us to the movie and gave us the sex talk! In the car! I wanted to throw myself into oncoming traffic.”
“Speak of the devil…” Carmen said under her breath, reaching for her phone, as it alerted her of a text with Caribbean steel drums.
“Whatever Phoebs, Ian’s been chasing you for months and you won’t even look at him.” Willow challenged her as she set her sights on a brownie.
“Who’s Ian?” I asked curiously.
“It’s not that I don’t like him, I just don’t know…”
“Excuses, excuses Phoebs. He wants you, he’s hot. What’s so hard about that?” Carmen insisted.
“Who’s Ian?” I asked again, louder this time.
“He’s hot, I know, I know…” Phoebe sighed “but he’s a Son of Daimon. They kind of creep me out.”
“If somebody doesn’t tell me who Ian is, I’ll just go ask Olivia!” That finally got their attention.
“I’m surprised you haven’t met him yet…he’s one of your boyfriend’s friends.” Carmen made kissing noises at me.
“Nobody said Finn’s my boyfriend!” I put my hands on my hips.
“I knew it! You slept with him didn’t you?” Carmen started bouncing in her seat beside me.
“NO! He is NOT my boyfriend and I did NOT sleep with him!”
“But she really likes him…uh oh, her face is getting red. Yep, she’s likes him, alright” Willow grinned at me and Phoebe chewed on her fingernails in deep thought.
I threw my hands up, “Fine, I like him. Happy?”
“Very. Just watch out for your soul.” Carmen continued eating her brownie, a smug look on her face. “I’m just saying.”
“You don’t think
he’s creepy?” Phoebe scrunched her nose like we were talking about zombies.
“He’s definitely dark, but nowhere close to creepy.” I chuckled at her.
“It’s not like he’s a pedophile,” Carmen frowned at her, exasperated. “He’s a Son of Daimon. They’re mysterious, hot and sexy. What could go wrong? Plus, I heard he’s going to ask you to the Cimmerian Shade Ball.”
“Really?” Phoebe’s eyes got wide. She turned to me, “Are you going with Finn?”
“You guys, we aren’t together! I’ve never even heard of the Cimmerian Shade Ball.” My heart squeezed. Would he ask me to go? What if he didn’t?
“Mmmhmm…you sooo slept with him,” Carmen mumbled, as she furiously typed away on her phone.
“It’s the annual dance that the Sons have on the night of some important meteor shower. I can’t remember what’s so significant about that shower, but I think it has to do with Aquarius,” Willow explained while licking brownie crumbs off her fingers, “I’ve never been, but I hear it’s a big deal. Real formal. Like prom dresses and tuxes formal. But of course it’s invite only.”
“Although….as far as I know, your precious Finnegan has never attended.” Carmen said dramatically.
“Why not?” I asked. She looked at me like I was missing something obvious.
“Can you say ‘cursed’? No girl in their right mind would go out with him.” She looked at me, waiting for me to realize she was referring to me. I changed the subject.
“He did show me some cool stuff though.” I scooted to the edge of the cushion and leaned forward. “He showed me that I can manipulate waves.” I heard them gasp. “I actually made them stop! It was wild!”
“Maybe you can help Carmen figure it out.” Phoebe teased from the kitchen as she poured an entire bottle of Hershey’s syrup into her milk glass. Apparently, she liked a little milk with her chocolate.
“I don’t need help!” Carmen was grinning, but I caught a hint of jealousy in her eyes. “I’ve been doing it for years, so I’ll be the one teaching her.” She flipped her dark hair back over her shoulder.
