Prophecy Girl

by Melanie Matthews

  Fortunately, it had been the lovable Texan, and she bought him a black cowboy hat on sale at a western shop. She hoped Meg or Corrine had gotten her. They would give her something nice. If it was Bree, Eva assumed that she would keep the money, and give her a hair clip with a broken spring, or a bottle of almost empty nail polish.

  With the Commons Area deserted, and the way clear, she quickly rushed up the narrow stairs; the path took her through the open archway, down a dark hall, and then a right, past the library, to where a wooden door led to the professor and staff apartments. It was unlocked. Eva quietly shut the door behind her, and then she traveled down a long hallway with brightly lit chandeliers. There were several doors, but which one was Colin’s? At any moment, she feared someone would open a door, and catch her. She had no lie prepared, and the thought of being discovered made her shiver so much that goose bumps formed on her arms.

  Quiet as a mouse, she kept going, hearing holiday music filtering from some of the apartments. At the end of the hallway where a narrow set of stairs led to the lower apartments, she smelled the distinctive odor of tobacco. There was only one person who would dare smoke in the school, not caring what others thought—Colin.

  His apartment was the last one on the left. To the right of his door was a black metal mailbox with his name on it in green metallic letters. The box was empty. Eva felt sad, wondering if he had anyone in his life. And then she thought he probably just picked up his mail already.

  She heard the sound of a TV program and knocked softly on his door.

  Nothing.

  She knocked again, louder, but was hesitant to do anymore than that, fearing she would be discovered.

  Again, nothing.

  Finally, she banged against the door. Someone turned off their holiday music, and it was deadly quiet in the hallway, until she heard a door down the hallway, creaking open. Scared, she was about to flee, but finally, Colin appeared.

  Without so much as a “Hello,” she pushed him back further into his room. She followed inside, slammed his door shut, and locked it. He opened his mouth to speak, but she reached up, and slapped her hand over his mouth, just in time for him to remove his cigarette. In his other hand, he held a beer. As always, he was casually dressed in a white T-shirt and black jeans, and his dark brown hair was disheveled, sexy-like.

  “Shhh,” she warned him in a whisper.

  Nervous, she listened, and eventually the creaky door down the hallway closed.

  She let out a loud sigh, removing her hand from his mouth. “That was close.”

  The widest grin spread on his face, but he was silent, as he went to his green-marbled kitchenette counter, placed his beer down, and snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray. He turned to her. She could see the hunger in his eyes as he quickly advanced, and pushed her roughly against his locked door. He crashed against her lips, forcibly pushing them apart, ramming his tobacco-stained tongue inside her mouth, dancing with hers—an unwilling partner.

  “No,” she moaned against his mouth, gently pushing him away.

  He took a step back, but then advanced again, forcing her back against the door, not giving up.

  “No!” She pushed him back, harder. “I didn’t come here for that!”

  He took a few steps back, and then ran his fingers through his short brown hair, angry. “If you don’t want me, then what the fuck are you doing here?”

  She was so shocked that she fell silent, not knowing what to say.

  Still angry, he turned from her, and went to his wooden TV table, next to his black recliner. He pulled a cigarette from the pack, and lit it with his black lighter, taking a drag. As he walked back to the kitchenette counter, he avoided looking at her, grabbed his beer, and went back to his recliner, collapsing on the seat. With the cigarette between his fingers, he snatched the TV remote, and pushed the volume up to a nature program about lions, while taking another swig from the beer bottle.

  “The alpha male is not be trifled with,” the male expert said, wearing a straw hat. “He will fight all the other males off and claim the lioness for himself.”

  She waited for him to say something, but he just stared at the TV, smoking, so she took the time to look around.

  Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and a small white fridge had several pieces of paper and coupons on it, held on by shamrock magnets. Sadly, no pictures. Clothes were thrown about, along with empty boxes, and shoes without their partners, strewn across the floor. Past the kitchenette, there was a small bathroom, next to a small room, lit with a chandelier that showed a single bed with the green covers unmade.

  “You have a small bed,” she commented, but then instantly regretted her stupid remark.

  The volume went down on the TV.

  “So you’ve come to tease me?” he said in a strange voice. “Come to paint pictures in my head of what will never be?”

  She should’ve been nervous. She should’ve run like hell, but she just stood there, and said, “You just rhymed.”

  It was a silly remark to make, but she couldn’t help it. He sounded so poetic…so interesting. He stood up and turned, fixing his eyes on her, holding his cigarette and beer in one hand.

  “Is that what it takes?” He retrieved the cigarette with his other hand, took a drag, and exhaled. “You want a poet? Maybe a singer? Like Devin?”

  She shook her head violently. “No, I don’t want Devin.”

  She didn’t know what or who she wanted, but right now, she needed Colin to do something to her.

  “You don’t?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in disbelief.

  She kept silent. He drank down the rest of his beer, went to the kitchenette, and set it on the counter. Then he just stood there, staring at her, smoking.

  “You’re not supposed to smoke in the school,” she reminded him, saying anything to break the tension.

  “There’s a lot of things going on at this school that shouldn’t be, but they are,” he finally said, throwing his hands out. “And who are you to tell me what to do?” He took another drag and blew the smoke to her face. She coughed, waving it away. “Look at you, a student, in a staff member’s apartment, talking about how small his bed is.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Is your bed that much bigger?” He nodded to the black recliner. “How about there? You can be on top. Pity you’re not wearing your skirt.” He smirked. “Mmm. The things I’ve imagined doing to you while you wore that skirt.” He traced his tongue playfully along his upper lip.

  “Stop it, Colin! I didn’t come here for that!”

  “Well, what are you here for?” he asked with an edge to his voice. “Come for a chat? It seems that’s all we ever do,” he continued, melancholy.

  She wanted to feel sorry for him, but she knew what he really wanted.

  “And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

  “You know,” he said, shaking his cigarette at her, ash falling on the floor, “you are a tease. Just like Bree. I thought you were different, but no! A tease.” He shook his head and smiled. “A gorgeous tease.”

  She crossed her arms against her chest. “I’m not gorgeous,” she said softly.

  He laughed. “All the gorgeous ones say that!” He took another drag and exhaled. Oh! I’m so ugly,” he said in a high pitched voice, imitating a girl, waving his hands around. “Shit,” he continued, going back to his deep voice, “you know you’re the most gorgeous girl here. You’re not blind.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t come here to argue. I don’t have a lot of time. I need to see if you can enter me.” As soon as she said it, she knew how he’d react.

  His eyes widened, and then he smirked, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He slowly sauntered over to her like one of those male lions in the documentary.

  “Baby, I know I can. If you’re willing,” he said in a deep voice.

  He reached his hand out, trailing his fingertips down the exposed part of her chest, against her sensitive flesh, inching closer and closer to her
breasts. It felt good, but she pulled away from his touch.

  “I meant here,” she said, placing her fingertips against her temples. “I need to see if you can break through like Lucas can.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You want me to enter…your mind?” His eager hand fell to his side.

  She nodded. “Just my mind,” she emphasized, pointing a threatening finger at him.

  He raised his eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I need to figure something out.”

  “Figure what out?”

  She sighed. She didn’t want to tell him about her ghostly ancestors, but she needed to tell him something if she wanted his help.

  “I need to know if I’m…easy…to enter.”

  It wasn’t the best choice of words, and a lie, but it was an answer that she hoped he’d accept. She knew it wasn’t true because a few months ago the headmaster had tried to enter her mind, and as skilled as he was, he couldn’t. But she didn’t want to think about middle-aged Headmaster Quinn entering anything of hers.

  Colin smirked. “I know you’re not easy.” He tilted his head to the side, scanning her up and down, taking her full body in. “Well, at least not for me. Lucas, maybe.”

  “We were in love,” she said pointedly.

  “Were?” He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, but she didn’t move, paralyzed.

  “Are…I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s complicated. Now are you going to help me out or what?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I’ll help you out. But for a price.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How much?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Baby, I’m not talking about money.” He took his thumb and lightly traced the rough pad along the curve of her mouth. It was sensuous and she felt bad for liking it...very bad. Then he cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’m talking about something more…valuable.” He leaned in, ready to kiss her.

  She needed his help, but not this way, despite her longing to be touched, so she took a step back, away from his warm grasp. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t do it.” She turned from him, and started walking to the door.

  “I’m sorry, Eva. Please, come back. I’ll help you.”

  Against her better judgment, she halted and turned around to see a look of despair on his face. He seemed sorry, or really sad that she was about to leave. But she accepted his apology and regret for his actions. There was something about him that was split: half a bad boy, yearning to take her no matter how much she denied him, and the other half, a lonely boy, who could’ve easily settled for a less-than-erotic evening of drinking beer and talking…just talking.

  “No kissing,” she told him.

  “No kissing,” he agreed. “Come over here,” he instructed, motioning to a wooden bar stool.

  She raised her eyebrows, confused. “You want me to sit?”

  He shook his head, smiling. “No, it’s for me. I’ve worked all day. I’m tired.” He sat on the stool, motioning for her again. When she finally arrived, he split his legs, smirking, waving her in.

  She pointed her finger at him again. “I told you—”

  “I’m not trying to do anything. I just need you to come closer.”

  She sighed, but did as he instructed, and stood between his open legs, looking at his hopeful brown eyes.

  “The headmaster didn’t need to do this to enter my mind,” she pointed out.

  “The headmaster is more experienced than me,” he countered. “But not in other departments,” he added, smirking.

  “Just get on with it,” she urged.

  “All right, whatever you want.”

  They remained still, silent, staring at each other. Her heart was racing. But after awhile, it slowed, because nothing was happening. She couldn’t sense him inside her mind. But she wasn’t having a vision either.

  “Does it only work if I’m having a vision?” she asked.

  He swallowed, continuing to stare at her.

  She snapped her fingers at the side of his face. “Hello?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  She sighed. “Do I need to be having a vision for it to work?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Of course, I’ve only ever done this with normal girls…I mean, girls who aren’t Banshees,” he added when he saw her pained expression. “Come closer,” he continued.

  “Colin—”

  “Just humor me.”

  He pulled her forcibly to him, causing their noses to bump gently against each other.

  “Ow!” She rubbed her nose, trying to massage the slight soreness away.

  “Sorry.” He swiftly kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I don’t think this is going to work,” she said, but didn’t pull away. It felt good to be kissed, to be desired. But she wanted it from Devin, not Colin.

  “Let’s try, okay? Now press your forehead against mine.”

  She hesitated, and then leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. He gently clenched her wrists, mildly restraining her. She could feel his heart thumping wildly through his forehead, and she could smell his tobacco-stained breath, escaping from his parted lips.

  Despite how uneasy she felt, she remained rooted to the floor, with her forehead pressed against Colin’s, and her eyes closed, waiting for him to break through. Her heart was racing, pounding in her ears.

  But nothing.

  She pulled away, but he kept his eyes closed, and his hands around her wrists.

  “It’s not working,” she said.

  It wasn’t him. If he really was dangerous, cunning, and powerful, he could’ve entered her mind, vision or no.

  Unless…he was tricking her. Unless he had dark designs.

  But she didn’t think so. He was desperate for her attention, desperate for her love.

  When he finally opened his eyes, he said softly, “Kiss me.”

  She pulled away from him, and surprisingly, he let her go. “No, Colin. I’m sorry.”

  He remained seated on the bar stool. “Just one kiss. Please.” He sounded so desperate, and the look on his face made her want to cry.

  If he really was a warlock, he was doing an excellent job of manipulating her.

  She slowly walked back to him. “Close your eyes.”

  Instantly, he did, parting his lips, but she moved to the side of his face, and planted a sweet kiss against his stubbly cheek, then pulled away.

  He kept his eyes closed. “Again,” he said softly, turning his other cheek to her.

  She hesitated, but finally kissed his other cheek. He opened his eyes and gently pulled her to him, holding her in his arms, pressing their cheeks together.

  Surprisingly, she let him.

  “I’m so lonely, Eva,” he whispered in her ear. “So. Damn. Lonely.”

  She ran her fingers through his short brown hair. “I know, Colin. I know.”

  “Stay with me tonight,” he urged softly.

  “No, Colin.” She pulled away from him. “I can’t. I won’t.”

  He stood up and held out his hands to her in a halt motion. “I’m not taking about sex, okay? We can just…talk, that’s all.” His hands fell to his sides, as if they had become terribly heavy.

  She could see the hope in his brown eyes—hope that she would stay with him and alleviate his sorrow. For a Leprechaun, he acted like a Banshee…except for the visions, the tears. But she thought she saw his eyes water just a little—a flood that he fought back with all his might.

  “The concert,” she reminded him. “The exchange of gifts.”

  He nodded. “Right…the concert…the gifts.” He smiled. “I…uh…” He trailed off, brushing his fingers through his short brown hair, nervous. “I got you something.”

  “You got me a present?” she asked, excited.

  He held up a finger and smiled. “One sec.”

  He walked into his bedroom, and she heard a drawer open and close. After a few seconds, he walked out, holding a large square package, wrapped in red and
green paper with a golden bow on top.

  “Here,” he said, blushing, handing it to her.

  She took it, and exclaimed, “Colin! You shouldn’t have! I didn’t get you anything!”

  He shook his head. “Your friendship is enough.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Just friendship?”

  He smiled. “Well, I’d like something more, but I’ll take whatever you give me.”

  She smiled too, clutching her gift. “Can I open it now?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  She sat down on the bar stool, slowly peeling off the paper, trying to preserve it.

  He laughed. “Oh, give it here!” He gently snatched it from her and tore off the wrapping. “It’s just paper.” He handed the unwrapped gift back to her.

  It was a pop-up book of France. When she opened it to the first page, the Eiffel Tower popped out, standing tall, standing beautiful. Along the flat pages were boxes filled with facts about its construction and other tidbits of information.

  He came closer to her. “I, uh, heard you talking with your friends in the library. You said that you’d love to go to France, and I like pop-up books, so I guess I got you a gift that I would like too.”

  A tear fell down her cheeks. “I love it!”

  Immediately, he took his thumb and brushed her tear away. “You do?”

  She nodded. “Yes! It’s the best gift ever! Thank you!” She leapt off the bar stool, threw her hands around his neck, and gave him a sweet kiss on his lips.

  His eyes went wide with shock, and her face flushed hot. They just stood there, staring at each other, nervous. Finally, she came to her senses, and let go of him.

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

  “I, uh, should get going.”

  “Yeah, okay, the concert.” He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Have fun.”

  “Why don’t you come?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, I got”—he looked around his junky room—“things to do.”