Crimson Knight (Crimson Series Book 0)

by K. L. O Johnson

  I stood, questioning which route to take; I paused at a three-point intersection at the edge of the school grounds. It was smaller than I expected it to be however, the majority of the school was a hundred acre and apparently there needed to be an update in the brochure sometime next year since the school grounds were being extended while new facilities were being added. “You lost little lady?” asked a deep voice. I spun around, to see a middle-aged man wearing a large straw hat smiling at me, he was smeared in droplets of sweat while the wearing brown one piece overall, smudged in dirt.

  “I’m sorry . . . you are?” I asked. He smiled and giggled at my sensible question.

  “The name’s Jarvis, yours?”

  “Cecelia.” I introduced. He shifted around his thick shovel he had plunged into the ground; something he used to support himself. “And yes, I’m lost . . . can you tell me where the teahouse is?” He laughed and I questionably regarded him, I was certain I didn’t say anything funny and if I did, I was unconvinced it was that funny.

  “You found it little miss, head inside that building behind the trees, you can see the red tiles there in the distance.” He nodded his head in the general direction. I turned from him and saw the slight red truss not too far away, he nodded towards. Internally, I felt more relief at that moment than I did since they gave me this task. “The lady there . . . name’s Ercela, she’ll help you with whatever you need. Just remember to be polite.” He turned his heel and left, lazily waving at me from over his shoulder.

  The small house wasn’t exactly small, it was large. The cream coloured walls danced fluidly under the sunset and the purple-blue sky behind the building only added to the red tiles which complemented the surrounding forest in a pleasant manner. I strode towards the fly-wire door and knocked on its black metal frame. There was nothing at first though, I was tempted to try again. The moment my pale knuckles were ready to repeat—the wooden door swung open to reveal a woman with slim framed glasses lining her sharp eyes and pointed features as black hair was pinned up into a high bun. “Yes?”

  “Are you Ercela?” I asked. “The woman in charge of the tea house.”

  “Yes, and who might you be?” she asked.

  “I’m Cecelia Rusakova, I was sent to retrieve more tea by the Faction.” The woman sighed, her delicate pale fingers brushed along her features as deciding what to do. She stepped aside and gestured for me to enter something I did without hesitation, as she seemed like the type of person to cut interest quickly. Soon, I was guided inside a foyer designed like the main castle.

  “Those kids, honestly, I swear they go through tea and sweets like water. Don’t they know these things aren’t cheap.” she mumbled and I was slightly confused by her reaction.

  We entered a large spacious room, lined in tall ceiling high shelves where pots filled with herbs; plants and other flora all of which were labelled with a white tape and black penmanship. “Don’t these come from companies?” I enquired as I observed the masses and masses of herbs stacked in numerous jars.

  “They would if the companies had what we want, except they don’t. I grow them and distribute them to various other places. It’s a well-earned business except when those little brats decide to drink up my hard work. I won’t have any money to pay for next month’s supply if they keep this up.” The hardness in her features and the tone of her voice—from here, I could indisputably tell, she was frustrated.

  Thud! I peered over my shoulder and glanced at the door only to find nothing. I returned my attention back to Ercela. Her black well-shaped brows only arched more in annoyance as she glared at the door. Immediately, it swung open and I was surprised at who I saw. “David?” I questioned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Making sure you have our tea.” he answered casually striding over to us, not even considering, closing the door behind him.

  “I’m getting it now.” I stated, slightly annoyed. Before turning my back on him. “Anyway, you still haven’t answered my question!” I declared with my back turned on him. I continued wait for Ercela as she grunted in annoyance, before she returned to search for what was required. “Um . . . Ercela, do you know what to look for?” I asked hoping she did.

  “I do, relax, child. It’s the same as it always is. They’re like their parents—similar tastes must be a dominant gene among their families.” she uttered and I giggled. David marched beside me.

  “Hey! That’s my family you’re talking about you, old hag!” he growled. I glared at him.

  “David!” I gasped. “Don’t be rude! You can’t go around and say stuff like that!”

  “Such pestilence impudence!” snapped Ercela. She turned around this time her hands on her well curved hips and glared. The strangest part was she didn’t even look that old—she looked like a young adult. “You kids these days are more impatient than your predecessors.”

  “What?” he growled confused and I remained silent. Like that the two managed to be tangled into an argument that I was contemplating one: on how quickly it happened and two: how heated it was. What I didn’t understand was the talk about the predecessors’ thing. How does this woman know their families? Was it her mother who told her about all these things? I somehow managed to drown out the argument and noticed a little while later that it was quiet. I noticed Ercela had crossed her slender arms at some point, as she watched me.

  “Did you hear what I said, child?” she asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “I said is there, anything you want?” she asked, this time with a serious gaze. I glanced between her and David and back again, David just shrugged at my confusion as Ercela hadn’t said much.

  “Um . . . no it’s okay,” I urged.

  “You sure?” questioned Ercela with a gaze so penetrating, I nodded. Feeling as though she was searching for the darkness within.

  Couldn’t you turn around and say you had everything under control? Sometimes I wondered about David, for some strange reason, he didn’t seem to believe half of the things I tell him. At the same time, I really couldn’t be bothered but I knew I had to ask as there was this foreboding darkness that surrounded this school and yet, within those same halls every day there seemed to be a shadow so much obscure than black itself. I wandered beside David on the way to school grounds, with the tea bags cradled in brown boxes that sat snuggly in my arms, “Why were you there?”

  “Because I wanted to be.” he argued and I scowled at his words, I had a strange feeling he was lying to me but couldn’t be sure if that feeling was true.

  “Fine. Whatever.” I groaned. We returned to the central school grounds, immediately before sunset and wandered down paths lined in well-trimmed bushes, the mowed lawns—leafless paths that appeared to have been pressure pumped rather than blown—which seemed to give a healthy dark green orange glow. “What’s the time?” I asked, scared of missing first period. I had Professor. Blanc and I didn’t like the sound of what the rumours surrounding him. Apparently, he was the type of teacher that drilled their students with work and more work—his way of teaching, was far more brutal than any other teacher, I apparently, could have ever had.

  “Six thirty,” I stood frozen. David stopped and turned over his shoulder. “What’s with you?” he asked and I failed to reply, I failed to do anything. It was my second day of school and I was going to be late for first period. David turned around and waddled towards me with utter grace, masking a questionable guise.

  “I’m quite thirsty my dear . . .” that voice whispered.

  My arms slacked and my thoughts vanished. “What’s wrong with you—” The ground turned and shifted beneath my feet as everything began to crash. Even before I knew it, I landed on something; it was firm and sturdy but far from safe. “Cecelia! Hey wake up! Cecelia!”

  THREE

  STRANGE OCCURRENCES

  RUSSIA 2040,

  “Mommy I’m scared.” I said, as I regarded the bleached winter snow—no matter how cold it felt, no matter how scared I was—he wouldn’t go
away. “Is he coming for me?” I asked. My mother dropped on her knees and pulled me into her tender arms. The heat from her body was cold as ice but I delved in it—the same way any child would when cradled in the arms of those they loved and whom loved them, unconditionally. “Is that bad man going to kill me, mommy?”

  “No sweetie . . . I won’t let him.” she had said.

  PRESENT,

  The bright warm light. Enhanced the pink glow, smudged behind my lids as I woke to a woman who stood not too far from my bed, dressed in a white knee-length coat, she cradled a clipboard, something which moved as she wrote. The scribbling sound of her pen against the paper, ricocheted around us, rivalling the sound of the wall clock at the far end of the room. “Good you’re up,” she greeted, as her pen ceased to etch.

  “Where am I?” I asked, confused as my head unwaveringly spun. A burning sensation lingered in back of my throat harvesting a strange tangy taste of blood.

  “You’re in the sick bay.”

  “Sickbay?” I repeated, more as a question. The woman leaned over me and placed her cool palm against my forehead. Once done she checked my pulse with her watch as she timed each beat per second.

  “Your vitals are normal and you don’t appear to have a fever.” she stated, slightly confused. Her brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. As her eyes were a sharp electric blue that reigned knowledge. Something I couldn’t help but admire. “Have you been eating?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You’re not sexually active are you?” she questioned, I sat up straight and objected immediately, she ushered me back down and apologised for such a question. Time went by and I felt more and more restless but at the same time, more at peace, the night sky seemed to call to me as I regarded the beautiful pale full moon. I heard a howl in the distance.

  I felt my doctor tense beside me, her eyes locked onto the darkness outside as they narrowed down on something which I couldn’t fathom. The tense atmosphere in the room felt thick, for several long stretches of moments. Something which painfully seemed to drag on for hours. By the time, she relaxed and cleared me to leave, I was able to stand and get dressed. Stretching my legs felt good in a calming sense but my head didn’t seem to agree. It didn’t ache nor did it move like previously, instead, it just felt crammed. And I couldn’t comprehend what caused it. My body tiredly ached but felt strong at the same time.

  Once, I was set and ready to go, I moved to the door and heard hushed—frantic voices. After a minute or two, I pulled open the door and there stood the members of the Faction and Professor Long. Surprisingly, Professor Summers stood there too, this time with worried eyes. Her blond hair complemented her pale skin, sharp blue eyes and light pink lips. She was yet another young teacher. Something I was now starting to find odd. Where were the old ones? They all stopped and stared at me. I stared back, impassively.

  “Cecelia are you okay?” questioned Bella as she ran straight to me. Slamming her body into mine before, stringing her placating arms around my shoulders practically strangling me. I was so surprised by her reaction, I forgot to breathe. I immediately, tapped her on the shoulder. Only after a few seconds, did she realise I was in need of fresh air. “Oops, sorry,” she giggled, apologetically.

  “No problem, I’m good,” I breathed. There I stood, listening to the agitated and concerned faces of my new classmates. I was surprised to see Professor Long and Professor Summers but at the same time grateful to know, I was well looked after. The week passed by pretty swiftly after that, everyone managed to get on well. There were some more battles in the Arena here and there but there were also more assignments and tutoring that Bella gladly helped me with. I was so happy in moments like this. School seemed pretty normal until I started to realise my sudden attraction to the tall—dark, mysterious, Viktor Romanov.

  Over time, I began to notice the minutest details he propelled and by the end of the month, I knew those gestures people often missed. If I could narrow it down to its most basic form it would be something, that was him, on a much deeper psychological level—all those times, I ran into him because Bella was my roommate, my tutor, my classmate and above all my new friend—those were the very same times I ran into the alluring Viktor. I was able to pull my work ethic; into a proud pattern that left me some room for my social faction which I was pleased to know that I was a part of. Though the closer and closer I became to the Faction, the more and more my other peers around me began to look at me in a different sense.

  The frightening thing about it was . . . I had no idea if it was a look of approval . . . or a look of rejection. There at times, seemed to be something almost cynical, almost deathly behind the smiles and tone of my fellow Faction members. It was like the closer and closer I became to them. The stronger the sense of impending danger called to me. Even the teachers seemed off—they appeared to be almost waiting for something or rather . . . someone.

  The days passed by fast, yet again. Then over time, they became slower and slower before I soon learned I wore my heart on my sleeve. I blushed when Bella told me that, “Do you like him?” she asked. I was stunned and quickly concealed my feelings with a half-honest lie.

  “No. I just admire him.”

  “What’s the difference?” she questioned as we walked to class. I scowled at her but the look on her face told me she expected me to retaliate. I refused to show such a predictable outcome which resulted in me casually stating:

  “I look up to him. He’s a very good role model. After all, isn’t he our senior?” I questioned and like that Bella fell for the trap.

  “Yeah, he’s a year older than us and a sophomore.” commented Bella. She stopped suddenly, as did I.

  Her eyes narrowed on a person, who casually gaited toward us, his hands were concealed in his pockets. With his dark gaze locked into a far off abyss my skin unfathomably crawled. There was a haunting smile on his features shrouded by this neck-length brown hair.

  “Hey . . . what’s wrong?” I asked. She didn’t answer me. Instead, she was completely focused on the boy approaching us. Threatening and fearful vibes dance off of her. This only added to my sense to flee. Each step he took, seemed to be slowly absorbed into my mind. As everything that I knew or everything I thought, I knew about this school, was only confirmed by his very existence. He steadily walked passed us with that same smile on his face. With that same pace in steps. It was hauntingly slow. And it was when he passed, only then did I exhale a breath, I didn’t realise I held.

  “Let’s go.” Was all Bella said as she walked on ahead. I glanced over my shoulder, to see that the boy vanished. Even as I headed to class, I could still hear those haunting footsteps and feel that dangerous aura that surrounded him tickle against my skin. He was trouble and everyone must have known it. Surprisingly, I never thought I would encounter such a boy here, he was the type of boy, I’ve been warned to stay away from at all costs. We made our way to class and Professor Tulum, wasn’t pleased. She was a fiery red-haired teacher with piercing green eyes. Features which complemented her long hair that cascaded down her back in alluring waves.

  “You’re late,” she remarked the moment we entered the class, everyone stopped and looked up. I froze on the spot—I was never the one to enjoy attention—the very idea of it chilled me to the bone. “Do you girls have anything to say for yourselves?” she demanded with her hands on her hips. It was the words I understood but my mind found it difficult to grasp. Instead, it was distracted by lingering eyes.

  “Cecelia Rusakova,” swept Professor Tulum’s voice across the deathly silent room where most of the students sucked in a fearful amount of oxygen. I turned my complete and undivided attention to her that she managed to ascertain. I noted it didn’t aid, at all, in lightening her mood. “About time . . . and here I thought I was talking to a brick wall . . .” she muttered—thinking I hadn’t heard her, before adding, “You’ll stay after class for academic detention.” I stared.

  “But Professor . . .” began Bella.r />
  “No Bella, I didn’t want to hear it.” Bella turned to me with an apologetic gaze, I smiled and nodded. “She’s been here a good two months by now she should be able to wander around the school grounds with her eyes closed. So her being lost is not an excuse other than a cover up for tardiness.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” I prepared, knowing class will be a little longer. Bella gave me a small smile and fled to her desk.

  Class was longer than expected and when the bell freely rang I started packing my things away only to have Professor Tulum pull me up, “heading somewhere Cecelia?” she asked in a mocking tone—the uptake of her red lips didn’t help at all.

  “Ah . . . Biology?” I hoped. Everyone giggled around me and Bella shook her head and made a two-digit finger notion.

  “You do realise I have you until two,” she declared with humour and in that moment, I swear, I saw something sinister cross her pale sharp features. Everyone laughed and I sank in my seat, certain, my teacher was out for my blood. She’s enjoying punishing me more than my parents do, I sadly thought. I saw at the corner of my eye, Bella once more, attempted to fight back a smile that to my suspicion was triggered by Professor Tulum’s comment. I couldn’t help but glare. That caught her attention. She turned away and looked down at her book, with that same smile masking her lips. Traitor.

  By the time class ended I stood. “And where do you think you’re going?” asked Professor Tulum. I stared, was she serious? I had been sitting here for an hour and forty minutes.

  “To stretch my legs.” I declared with a masked expression and she sighed. Pink, orange and red streaked across the sky made me aware of dawn on approach and Professor Tulum hadn’t said much after permitting me to go and get a drink but I had to be back. According to her; “Talking is a luxury students’ on Academic Detention don’t have.” I didn’t like the sound of that but kept my mouth shut between from when she said that, which was a few hours ago and until now. “You’re free to leave Miss Rusakova but don’t be late again or you’ll be serving Academic Detention for a whole week, understood?”