Redemption (Redemption Series Book 1)

by R.K. Ryals

  ~Bezalial~

  “What did you see?” my aunt asked me pointedly once we’d pulled away from the school.

  I looked up, startled. Her eyes were watching me in the rearview mirror. She knew about my vision?

  “See?” I asked.

  Aunt Kyra continued to stare, her eyes moving occasionally to the road as she drove. Her mouth was tight, lines around them revealing her increasing age. I looked away, watching the scenery change outside the car window.

  “What’s happening to me, Aunt Kyra? What do you know that I don’t?”

  My voice was pleading. I hated that it sounded that way. Aunt Kyra ran over a small curb, and I realized that I had unsettled her. The car straightened quickly.

  “What did you see, Dayton?” my aunt asked again. “It’s important that you talk to me. This is a lot bigger than you."

   What was? The answer seemed important to her, urgent even, but the question made me furious.

  “You want me to talk to you? Me talk to you? Ha! That’s funny. I won’t talk, Aunt Kyra. I won’t. Not until I find out the truth. What’s bigger than me? What’s happening to me?”

  Aunt Kyra pulled into the lane leading to Blackstone Abbey. I could see her cheeks flushing in the mirror. Maybe it was anger, maybe frustration. At this point, I didn’t care.

  “Nothing is happening to you, Dayton."

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “That’s a bunch of bullshit!”

   The car lurched as Aunt Kyra suddenly hit the brake. The force threw me into the back of her seat, and I rubbed my shoulder as pain shot down my arm. What the hell? She jerked the car into park and pointed at the Abbey.

  “You can walk from here, Dayton,” she ordered. I didn’t move.

  “What is going on?” I asked calmly despite my thumping heart. My determination far outweighed my fear. Her eyes were flashing. I had crossed the line with the language. She had crossed the line with her secrecy. It was my life that was changing.

  “You are a small part of something so much bigger, Dayton. The time has come for you to understand that. And you will. Until then, you respect me and you respect the Abbey. Understood?” she said. I just nodded. She pointed at the door again.

  “I suggest you walk up the lane and think about what I said."

  I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the car door.

  “You can’t avoid my questions forever, Aunt Kyra,” I said as I stepped out of the car.

  “I don’t intend to,” she replied.

  I shut the door. She pulled away and sped down the lane, leaving me alone coughing up dirt and kicking pebbles with my tennis shoes. Dammit! Think about what she said? Yeah, right. The only thing I thought about as I began to walk was how ridiculous this whole thing was becoming. To hell with it all!

  “Damn, damn, damn!” I cursed as I came closer to the Abbey, my voice rising with each word. God it was hot! Which didn't improve my mood any. I hated September weather in the South. Southern weather was as temperamental as its people. Hot one moment, chilly the next. But rarely ever cold. Forty degrees was enough to make every person in the street complain it was freezing. And on the rarer occasion it snowed, the whole town shut down. Today was a humid one and sweat trickled slowly down the side of my face. I swiped at it.

  “Damn!” I screamed one last time.

  It was childish and utterly foolish to challenge this sacred place with words of condemnation, but I was well beyond frustrated and it made me feel better. Simple as that. I kept my eye on the prize as I marched.

  The door of the Abbey grew larger, and I was panting by the time I put my hand on the knob. I paused and looked up at the building, the dark stone walls hovering over me ominously. I saw something move in my peripheral vision, and I backed up slightly. What was that? Leaves rustled in a nearby magnolia tree, and I moved back to the door as a cloud rolled in front of the sun. The day went dim. Spooked, I pushed at the door again, cursing the old hinges when it didn't open immediately. The vision from the school consumed me, and I shivered. I turned the knob.

  Voices moved down the hall from the refectory as I opened the door, but instead of moving toward the dining hall, I turned instead to the stairwell. I wasn’t hungry.

  “Dayton?” a voice asked as my foot hit the stairs. I paused. Amber. She looked up at me worriedly.

  “You okay?”

  I was having a self-pity moment, not because I’m the type to wallow in despair but because I was tired of having to accept these strange new changes in my life without knowing why. I kept my back to her and began to climb. I was withdrawing again. Why did I find it so hard to ask for help? She didn’t call after me, and I was glad she didn’t.  I was not okay, I was not happy, and I was tired of pretending I wasn’t angry, confused, or scared.

  I stormed into my room, slammed the door as hard as I could, tore through my desk for a dumdum and shoved my desk chair into the wood. Damn! My room turned into a gym full of punching bags, my imagination supplying me with a million different outlets for stress. I took them all. Damn! Something cracked as I hit my cheap plywood dresser. Let Aunt Kyra replace it!

  “To hell with this crap!” I cried out, loud enough I hoped the whole Abbey heard.

  I screamed so much and lashed out so vehemently that it wasn’t until exhaustion hit me that I realized I was crying. My cheeks were soaked with tears. I swiped at them angrily. I hated them for making me cry. I hated them all!

  “I won’t let you do this,” I murmured as I moved to close the curtains on my window. I was determined to shut out the world.

  One week. That’s all it had taken to make my already unstable world flip over. I was tempted to rip the fabric I held fisted in my hands into shreds. My fingers tightened on the violet material. What would it help though? The twilight outside beckoned, and I stopped to stare a moment. How long had I been fuming? I leaned closer to the window.

  Eyes met mine from the semi-darkness outside.

  My need for solitude was forgotten instantly. The eyes that stared back at me blinked. Real eyes, not a reflection. I fell back against my dresser, the wood cracking again. Something fell apart and hit the floor. Pain blossomed along my back. Oh my God! I began to shove away from the wall, my mouth opening in a scream as the window behind me began to lift. I could hear the squeal of metal against metal. I backed away toward my bedroom door. The scream wove its way up into my mouth.

  “Dayton, no! It’s ok! It’s Con,” a voice cried out.

  The scream got stuck in my throat, and I choked on it. Conor? Jesus! A hand materialized from around the curtains, and I swore under my breath.

  “A little help here,” he grunted as I swore again. My adrenaline levels dropped as fast as they had risen, leaving me drained and faint.

  “Are you kidding me?” I whispered loudly as he pulled himself over the ledge.

  I moved to the side of the window and glanced outside. A ladder was propped up against the building.

  “It was already in the garden,” Conor explained from beside me.

  I turned around and, without a second thought, hit him as hard as I could in the stomach. He barely flinched. It was like hitting rock, and I cradled my fist in pain.

  “You asshole!” I yelled.

   If humans could have nine lives, I’d just lost most of mine. Conor shrugged somewhat sheepishly. At least his shirt was in one piece this time. I didn’t need a reason to get distracted.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.

   He moved to sit on my bed, folding his six-foot frame as best he could into the small cubicle I called my bedroom. He grunted as he sat down, his gaze sweeping the room with a look that reeked of disgust.

  “What? They make you sleep in a closet?”

   I ignored him. The living quarters were meant for contemplation, not for comfort.

  “What is this? How did you find my room?” I asked him, my previous question not forgotten in the least.

  He lo
oked up at me, didn’t seem to like having to do so, and stood so that I was the one left glaring up.

  “Monroe," he answered

  I grew still. Monroe? Conor moved around a bit, shifting papers that were hanging off my desk and picking up the dumdum lollipop I’d dropped when I backed into the dresser. He lifted a brow in my direction.

  “Sugar is a sin, you know,” he joked, the innuendo not lost on me.

  I snatched the sucker out of his hand and threw it back into my desk drawer.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him a second time.

  He took a step toward me, his expression changing.

  “To check on you."

  His eyes stared directly into mine. The same look I’d seen in Philosophy class filled his gaze. It was something I hadn’t noticed in them before this week. It unnerved me.

  “You worried us, Dayton. Seemed appropriate someone make sure you were okay,” he said calmly.

  I was glad one of us was calm. He had moved closer during his explanation and my heart stopped. My neck hurt from looking up. Did he have to be so dead-blasted tall? I was used to Conor’s presence, even his familiarity outside of the Abbey, but in my room . . .

  “You could have just called.” I said softly, my hand moving to the cell phone I had stuffed in my blue jean pocket.

  Conor glanced down briefly, following my hand with his eyes before looking again at my face. His usual grin lit up his features, his dark blue eyes flashing with humor.

  “What fun is there in that?” he said while lifting his brows suggestively. It was such a Conor kind of move.

  I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. It was like having someone look you in the face and asking you not to smile. It was impossible not to.

  “Whatever. As you can see, I’m fine. You can go back the way you came now,” I said, pointing determinedly back toward the window. Conor’s gaze moved between me and the opening, but he didn’t move.

  “After all that work? I think not,” he said before sitting down on my bed again, patting the empty space next to him. The stubborn bastard. I stared at his hand a moment apprehensively. This was insane.

  “I don’t bite,” he said, one brow lifted and a corner of his mouth turned up. I swore under my breath.

  “Said the spider to the fly,” I told him pointedly when I finally sat down.

  He laughed a moment, his arm resting lightly along the back of my shoulders. It didn’t feel like it should with us being alone and all. He seemed to realize this, and he dropped his hand subtly, his palm coming to rest on the comforter a few inches away from my tailbone. I tried not to squirm. I stared hard at my knees.

  “What happened to you today?” Conor asked suddenly, his tone serious.

  I noticed a small stain on my jeans and I picked at it. The vision fell over me, and I shivered. I just wanted to forget it.

  “Is it smart for you to be here?” I asked. “I mean, what is this really?”

  I knew the question was rowing us into uncharted, dangerous waters, but I asked it anyway without regret. I didn’t want to discuss the vision. At all. Conor smiled.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable, Red?”

  I glared at him.

  “Honestly?” 

  My tone was serious. Conor quit smiling. He leaned closer.

  “I wanted to see you."

  I stared up at him, realizing in that instant that his face was entirely too close to mine. He smelled like peppermint. He loved mints the same way I did dumdums.

  “Why?” I whispered. Conor didn’t move away.

  “Because I’m worried about you." He leaned closer. “More worried than maybe I should be.”

  His statement was unexpected, and I leaned away slightly.

  “Oh."

  The hand he had lying behind my back moved closer. My spine tingled. I was feeling closed in.

  “Monroe suggested I ask you out,” Conor revealed suddenly.

  This took me by surprise, and I almost stood up. I fought the urge. What the hell? My gaze shot to his. He grinned.

  “Th-that’s ridiculous," I stuttered.

  Conor shrugged.

  “Maybe. I used to think so too,” he said. I searched his face intently.

  “What do you mean?” 

  Conor ran one hand through his hair restlessly, leaving it disheveled and in need of a comb.

  “I’m not quite sure, Red. You’ve never known me to skirt an issue. And today, when you started to come out of whatever trance you were in, when your nails dug into my skin, I realized something I think I’ve just been avoiding for a long time.” Conor said slowly, taking his time as if he were afraid I’d be like one of those girls in the movies Monroe and I liked so much—the kind that swooned. I wasn’t that type. 

  “What’s that?” I asked instead, my eyes wide. Conor shook his head.

  “I realized I wanted you to give me your pain. I wanted to take it away from you. It was an interesting moment for me. I've known you a long time, but this past year . . . I don't know. I-I’m beginning to think that I’ve been using my flirtation with girls as an excuse to stay close to you."

  I stared at him, my gaze frozen. I spent minutes without blinking. Now I felt uncomfortable. The space between us was suddenly way too small, way too claustrophobic. He noted the reaction.

  “I’m not here to make a move on you,” he said, his gaze moving steadily over me.

  I felt suddenly self-conscious. My jeans were dusty and ripped at the knee, I had kicked my shoes off at the door earlier as it was my habit to do so, and the oversized black dolman I was wearing had slipped off one shoulder to reveal a pink bra strap. My hair was frizzy and curled up from the walk earlier, and I ran my fingers through it nervously. Money was tight at the Abbey, and my aunt believed heartily in teaching humility. I didn't own a lot of clothes and the ones I did were usually outdated. I mentally slapped myself. Why should I care about that now? I fidgeted. This was different. Conor had never made me feel nervous before.

  “I’ll be honest though. I’m not having good boy thoughts right now. And if you think that surprises you well . . . hell, it surprises me just as much,” he said.

  He had always been too blunt for his own good.  I found I couldn’t speak so I just kept staring instead, leaving my face open to interpretation. Whatever he read there made him move away slightly. My breathing came easier.

  “What happened to you earlier, Red?” he asked me again, changing the subject smoothly.

  It didn’t rid the room of the buzz I could feel between us now. But this time I didn’t skirt the issue. The vision actually seemed a safer topic at the moment. Who would have thunk? I leaned back slightly, pulling the sleeve of my dolman back onto my shoulder as I did so.

  “I think, but I’m not one hundred percent sure, that I had a vision,” I said uncertainly.

  Conor watched me quietly, his gaze frozen on the shoulder where I had just readjusted my shirt. I was tempted to slap him.

  “Who’s Marcas?” he asked huskily.

  He didn’t question my vision theory. This made him more sure of it than I was. I shrugged. The dolman fell again, and I rolled my eyes. Ugh! Fixing it would just bring more attention to it. I left it alone.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  The name and the man filled my mind instantly. I could almost taste his name on my tongue. It was a warm feeling and more than a little strange.

  “The vision was about two men. They were arguing. I don’t know. I-I’m pretty sure one of them was referred to as Marcas."

  I didn’t include the part where the aforementioned Marcas was stabbed. Conor nodded slightly, his gaze finally moving back to my face. His eyes had darkened.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I sighed.

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  Was I supposed to be okay? No, I wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to fall apart either. Conor shifted.


  “Something is going on here, Day."

  I looked at him a moment before answering. His face was a lot more rugged than I remembered. Maybe because I’d never really looked at it before. Or I had but never this closely.

  “No shit,” I said in return. “One sleepover and there's suddenly invisible people after me, dark visions, and something strange about the Abbey. I think you guys made hash brownies and didn’t tell me about it.”

  Conor laughed sarcastically. “That’s hilarious, Red."

  “I try.”

  Conor shook his head and moved closer. The discomfort level climbed again.

  “It does seem like we’re making a big deal out of nothing, but Monroe’s visions have been pretty dead-on in the past. They’re not something to shrug off,” Conor pointed out. I knew that. I did. I put my face in my hands.

  “God, we’re a weird group,” I muttered. Conor snorted.

  That was an understatement. Monroe and Lita were both Wiccans, Monroe was a visionary, and Jacin was a football player with a less-than-desirable home life and a very strange gift. While Lita’s family was pretty lax on the rule system, they still loved her and accepted her eccentric ways. Hell, she even had a grandmother who practiced voodoo in its most extreme form. Jacin’s family, on the other hand, was a different story. His father was a lawyer who wouldn’t take anything less than perfection. Jacin usually gave him that. But there were some things your nature couldn’t hide. The fact that Jacin saw auras was one of them. I wasn’t lying when I said our group was weird. As for Conor, I suspected something was different about him, but he never revealed it. His mother was a real estate agent who read palms on the side. That was the only freaky thing I knew about him.

  “We’re friends for a reason,” Conor remarked.

  I gave him a look. While there seemed to be something unique about everyone in the group, the only thing strange about me was the fact that I pretty much lived in a church. Conor put a finger under my chin. I fought not to pull away.

  “I told you your face is as open as a book, sweetheart. You’re just like the rest of us. You don’t have an aura. Jacin has never seen one around you."

  I pulled away from him. We might all be different, but we never discussed what made us that way. It didn’t seem right that we were discussing it now and all because of me.

  “Let’s drop it,” I said.

  Conor might not agree, but he didn’t argue. The silence between us grew. I sneaked a glance in his direction. His face was tilted, a strand of hair falling forward along his forehead. His jaw was set. I was more aware of him than I ever had been. It was at that moment, I realized that Conor was as close a friend to me as Monroe. He had always been there, in the background, picking us up whenever we fell. He caught my stare and smiled.

  “I never pegged you for a pink girl,” he joked.

  I think he was trying to relieve the tension, but it made heat climb up my neck anyway. His eyes dropped to my bra strap, and I smacked him. He stood up and backed away, his hands held out in front of him.

  “You’re becoming rather abusive. Should I be concerned?”

  I laughed and pointed at my window.

  “Get out of here, Con."

  He saluted and walked to the open sill. I followed him over. He started out, pausing briefly with one foot still braced inside my room.

  “Stay safe, Red,” he whispered, his hand coming up to rest against my cheek. I probably should have pulled away but I didn’t. His gaze fell on my shoulder again.

  “Just so you know, pink suits you."

  His face was suddenly serious. We were entirely too close. His gaze fell to my lips. My pulse picked up. I liked Conor, but it was a little too soon to know how much. I didn’t know how to reply to that and Conor didn’t wait for a reaction. Pulling himself over the side, he pulled away from me and scaled down the ladder easily with a grace that seemed strange for his height. I watched him go down the driveway, his figure fading into the distance. I was deep in thought when my phone beeped at me from my pocket. Pulling it out, I flipped it open and glanced at the screen. It was a text message from Monroe.

  Did Conor stop by?

  Talk about timing. I stared at the screen a moment, glancing only briefly at the window before answering.

  He did.

  It took less than a minute before she replied.

  How did it go?

  I almost laughed.

  Are you trying to set me up?

  I was being blunt and I wasn’t sure she’d answer. She didn’t make me wait long.

  Who me? Nah. Just wanted to make sure you were ok.

  I cocked my brow. Conor wasn’t a liar. None of my friends were.

  Yeah, right.

  A second later a :D appeared on the screen. I laughed.

  I really was worried.

  She texted suddenly. I smiled softly. I knew she was. She’d do anything to keep me safe. I’d do the same.

  I know. I’m ok.

  I answered her back quickly. There was a pause between texts, and I stripped down hurriedly, grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top out of a hanging dresser drawer. It was the one I’d relieved my stress on earlier. Conor hadn’t helped. It’d have to be fixed for sure now.

  He’d be good for you.

  Monroe texted just as I lay down in the bed. I pulled the covers up to my chest. I knew it! What the hell? She could have at least warned me before sending Conor in like that. He wasn’t the type to hold back.

  I’m not sure that’s true. 

  I answered back.  My phone beeped again.

  Give it some thought, Day. I’m worried about you. The vision has me scared. I feel safer knowing he’s keeping an eye on you. I wish you would leave the Abbey.

  Monroe texted. I closed my eyes briefly. There was more behind her words.

  What aren’t you telling me, Roe?

  I asked her. There was a long pause and my eyes began to drift shut. I was just about asleep when the phone vibrated and beeped. I lifted it wearily.

  When Jacin saw your aunt today, he said her aura was black.

  My eyes shot open. I think she knew the remark would startle me because she texted again. This time it was to check if I was okay. I didn’t answer. The phone kept beeping. She knew me well. I didn’t have it in me to answer back. The next text was to tell me she loved me and to call or text if I needed her. I nodded as if she could see me. Sleep was a long time coming. Aunt Kyra’s aura was black?

  Chapter 8

  He has come for her. I knew he would. He is enchanted by her fire, her thirst for life. I fear for her. But I cannot come. I cannot save her. May God have mercy on her soul.