I stepped towards the sound, cutting through the bushes. My hand instinctively tightened around the strap of my bag, almost cutting into my skin. Every sense in my body was suddenly shouting ALERT! ALERT! ALERT! But that was ridiculous, because St. Mary’s was one of the safest schools in the South—
CLANG!
I jumped a few feet, heart thumping hard against my chest like a dribbling basketball. What the hell was I doing? Shouldn’t I be going away from the scary noises?
But…what if it was just some stupid kids getting in a fight? I had to see what was going on so I could tell a teacher. Yeah, that’s it. If I know someone’s fighting, I should report it. Heck, it could be just construction workers for all I know! Maybe the fence was in need of repair! But I still had to find out. Just to put my mind at ease, I guess.
I inched closer, the edges of thorn bushes snagging the hems of my skirt and making tiny cuts on the skin of my legs. The fighting sounds grew louder, as did the shouting. I managed (finally!) to get close enough to the scene as I hid behind a tree.
My jaw dropped—it literally dropped, and if this was a cartoon I’m pretty sure it would have fallen to the ground—at what I saw.
Beyond the fence that bordered the academy were two people around my age fighting each other, just as I had guessed about whatever—or I guess in this case, whoever—was causing the noise. But this wasn’t a typical school fight (you know when the girls grab for each other’s hair and the boys start swinging punches and throwing chairs); these two were fighting with weapons. Actual weapons you would see in a movie or a video game.
But they weren’t made of plastic covered in spray paint or bought at a costume store—these were real.
Sparks flew when the girl’s crimson colored spear-like weapon hit against the boy’s black, slender sword, sending shockwaves through my very bones. I thought I was dreaming. It took me a moment to actually let the situation sink in! My eyes widened in complete surprise as the two fought against each other, obviously clueless to my presence.
The girl was stunning—white blonde hair that was cut very short with curly ends that brushed the back of her neck, dressed in a simple white sweater and denim shorts and black biker boots. She had a thin crimson lance in her hands that seemed to give red sparks as it hit. It was beyond mesmerizing and terrifying all at the same time.
The boy had scruffy brown hair—but his gray tee was ripped up, like a giant cat had swiped at his front and I could see his muscles ripple underneath the torn ends as he moved. Really, the only thing still intact that he wore was faded denim jeans and dusty brown combat boots.
If the guy didn’t have a really sharp looking sword in his hands, I would have thought he was…hot. The entire blade was a deep onyx black, almost the same shade as the iron rods of the fence. It shone like a beautiful gem in the light, but when the sun caught it in just that one moment, I noticed that the gleam wasn’t from how shiny it was—it was red.
With what looked like…blood.
He gave an angry yell and charged at the girl, cutting her weapon in half with one quick slice, looking as easy as running a hot knife through butter. The razor-sharp sword was only centimeters from her face before she jumped backwards; the broken pieces of her spear lay abandoned on the grass. My heart all but stopped as the two stood feet apart, panting heavily. I glanced quickly at the fence—there were heavy cuts and scrapes against the bars, and even a gaping hole big enough for a small car to drive through in the fence. My heart beat faster at the damage done to the fence. If that boy could break such a heavy looking fence, who’s to stop him from seriously hurting somebody with that sword? Who were these people anyway? Live action role players? Pranksters? Delinquents who somehow got their hands on deadly weapons and were attacking each other in rage?!
I was rooted to my spot hidden behind the trunk of a thick tree, as if the tree roots had snagged my ankles, planting me firmly to the ground. The hanging Spanish moss made perfect cover as I peered at the two mysterious teens. I wanted to yell out for the girl to run away but for some reason I couldn’t find my voice. Just looking at that ominous, midnight black sword had me horrified. Look at what it did to the fence and to the girl’s own weapon—imagine what it could do to some stupid, curious girl like me!
Unlike my panicky state (despite the fact that I was hidden), the girl remained in her spot, unusually calm regardless of the beads of sweat and dirt smudges on her flushed face. She closed her eyes, and just as the man was about the swing his sword at her, she lifted her hands. A bright red light glowed from her palms as she blocked the attacker with her own weapon—a brand new ruby red sword that seemed to materialize from the palms her hands. It had happened out of nowhere, like a magician’s illusion but was as solid as a…well, a sword, and the two continued their brawl.
My knees gave out and I fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The impact sent a wave of pain up my spine, but I was too overwhelmed with what was happening in front of me to even notice the pain, or the fact that my skirt was getting dirty with grass stains.
This had to be a dream, right? I mean, people just couldn’t create things out of thin air! That only happened in movies! I was sitting there, waiting for some director to pop up out of nowhere and yell “Cut!” or see what else they could pull out of their sleeves. What next, a rabbit out of a hat? That had large fangs and dripped poison?!
But the ear piercing shrieks of sharp metal against metal snapped me out of my dazed thoughts. This wasn’t some scene in a movie or a magic trick. Judging from their faces—full of rage and fury—this was real. This was one hundred percent real.
These two were seriously trying to kill each other.
“Wh-What should I do?” my voice barely even a whisper as I watched the fight. It was like being the witness to a car accident—it was too gruesome to watch but you couldn’t pull your eyes away, and you didn’t want to help but at the same time you had to, even if you messed everything up. My knees were like jello; and I mentally cursed at both being stupid and being the only student on campus to not have a phone so I could at least call for help! I gripped the cold edges of my Grandmother’s bracelet, rubbing my thumb over the ruby red stone in an effort to calm down.
A sickening CRACK vibrated through the air, sending my heart flying through my chest when the boy’s weapon glowed a bright silver, and, as if being pulled by a fisherman’s string, the girl went airborne. I let out a choked scream as the girl flew through the cavernous hole in the fence, barely grazing the sharp edges of the once fence posts, and smacked straight into the neighboring tree.
She landed with a weighty thud on the grass right next to me, slumped over like the dead. A trickle of blood fell from her mouth, and the sword she clutched in her hand suddenly disappeared in a flash—a pool of red liquid in its place, coating her hand and clothes and the now brown grass.
The heavy, coppery smell made my stomach churn. I slapped my hands against my mouth, forcing the rising bile to go back down. Tears, I wasn’t sure from the overwhelming smell of blood or the fact that I was scared shitless, started to leak out, running down my pale cheeks. The makeup I had spent half an hour perfected and the hair that I painstakingly brushed neatly in place was ruined now, but that seemed the least of my problems.
A tree branch snapped. I stiffened, heart hammering like a drum.
The footsteps, muffled by the grass, came closer. I couldn’t see him, but the boy was panting heavily, as if that one blow had taken all his energy. I prayed for him to go away, hoping that he was too tired to finish whatever this whole thing was. Every step made my heart flutter faster. I started to hyperventilate. I couldn’t breathe—the air was suddenly too thick and heavy and hot. Black spots started flashing in front of me, and the world began to spin.
The girl coughed roughly, sucking in a breath. The footsteps stopped.
If he had taken one or two more steps, he probably would have spotted me camouflaged by the moss and leaves. I held my breath, praying he couldn�
�t hear how loud my heart was beating against my tight chest.
I saw the tip of his blood-tinted sword as he pointed the edge against the girl’s neck. “You shouldn’t have done this, Dove. None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me…” A pause…then a chocked sob left the boy’s throat. Was he crying?
“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.” The girl’s voice came out ragged, as if she were choking on air. Her eyes never opened…as if she were preparing for her loss in this battle.
“I don’t want to kill you. Not ever. But I have to stop you. Even for just a little longer.”
A faint grin played on her lips, and in the golden light she looked like a wounded—but prideful—angel giving herself to fate. “I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
He retracted his sword, raising it back as far as he could. Then, in the very next heartbeat, girl’s eyes fluttered open, and those cold blue eyes locked on mine.
I don’t know why I did it. Even now I haven’t the slightest idea what possessed me to do it, but I had done it.
I leapt from my hiding place and jumped in front of the girl, arms spread out. “STOP!” I tried to scream some sort of warning to him—but it was too late.
With one quick movement, the boy thrust his black blade towards his intended target—but it went right through the heart of an unbeknownst and sudden obstacle.
Me.
The look of pure horror on the guys face would never leave my mind. His bluish green eyes, as deep as the sea, swirled with waves and waves of hundreds of different emotions. I was almost sad that his eyes, though mesmerizing, would be the last thing I see.
Somehow, someway, the impact had knocked my band loose from my wrist. Maybe it was from me wringing it over and over on my wrist, causing the band to loosen or slide off. Or maybe it was just the sudden impact of the sword hitting my chest with such force it sent my body back to swiftly it just…fell off. I was vaguely aware, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Grandmother’s red gem sparkle in the sunlight. As though it was trying to assure me everything was going to be okay.
I felt a flash of horrible, horrible white hot pain and saw red.
And then the crimson soaked world went still, black…and dead.
CHAPTER 3
I gasped, sucking in cold. It felt as if I had been slammed into the ground; the impact jarring my bones and stretching my muscles, making my skin hot and irritable. My chest…god, it hurt so much, like…my heart was three sizes too big; like cramming a square block into a round hole. I felt like it was pumping, pumping, pumping, ready to explode—
Blindly, I reached out to grasp my Grandmother’s bracelet, but met with the bare skin of my wrist and the soft edge of my dress shirt. I grappled around; panic suddenly filling me as I tried to find where my bracelet had gone. Was it still on the night table? Did I drop it somewhere? Or—
A big, warm hand enveloped my own. I could feel my breathing slow down and I opened my eyes, wincing at the bright overhead lights. The pounding in my head wouldn’t subside. A low groan escaped from my mouth as I tried to sit up; all I could do was rest on my elbows before I nearly collapsed back into the soft covers, until someone’s hand placed itself in the middle of my back, helping me into a full sitting position.
“Are you okay?” a voice next to me sent me jumping. My head whipped to the side, my eyes instantly connecting with eyes like the sea; fear seeped through me—
Oh, no. Wait. His eyes weren’t deep green; they were a warm, coal gray as he looked at me with concern spread all over his face. “Hey, are you okay?” His voice was thick and warm, with a slight southern drawl. It made me flush.
“I, uh, yeah, I…am.” I stammered. I couldn’t suppress that shiver that glided down my spine; both from this handsome stranger’s touch and that flash of…memory? Dream? For a split second I thought I had saw him and—
A wave of panic slammed into me and I struggled for breath, remembering what had happened. The two people fighting, all of those weapons materializing out of nowhere, the girl unconscious against the tree and how bright and vivid and how sea green the boy’s eyes were as he had stabbed his sword through m—
“I’m gonna b-be sick,” I mumbled, trying to untangle myself from the white sheets. “W-Where’s the—”
“Uh, wait, shouldn’t you—”
Somehow I had wretched myself from the boy’s grasp, nearly toppling onto the floor as I reached a door, and rushed into it. Hard. My shoulder exploded with pain but the threatening bile that was about come out was forced away from the physical pain as I ran down the hallway.
My feet slapped against the checkered floor and I realized I was in a building—probably the administrative building? I wasn’t sure. How did I get here anyway? My breath hitched in my throat, and I pressed my hands harder against my mouth, fighting to urge to relieve my stomach contents all over the black-and-white checker patterned floors.
Finally, I spotted the sign to the girl’s restroom. With a strangled noise of relief I burst in, a wave of nauseating sweet potpourri and lemon cleaner filled my senses and I ran into the nearest stall, dry heaving the chocolate chip banana breakfast muffin and orange juice I munched on this morning.
“Ugh…” I leaned over the porcelain bowl, gagging at the disgusting taste lingering in my mouth. My chest physically hurt from the running and heaving. Burning tears started to spill and I found myself curled up on the bathroom floor crying from the pain. I clutched my chest, and then it hit me—
There wasn’t a wound on my body at all.
I shot to my feet, the lingering pain in my knees almost gave way but I grabbed at the edge of the stall door before I fell. I made my way over to the large mirror, (pausing just a moment to realize that my jacket and shoes were missing) and unbuttoned the white dress shirt to reveal…nothing.
No, not just nothing.
There was no blood, no gushing wound, or stitches or gauze or anything on my chest.
But there was a tattoo.
There, right over my heart, was a small tattoo of sorts the color of a dark yellow, almost a skin-like color so dark that it glowed against my pale white skin. When I shifted around, it shone in the light, but pretty much remained unnoticed. The tattoo was odd and beautiful, the shape of a small circle with strange markings on the inside…almost like…the face of an old fashioned grandfather clock.
I traced the edges of the tattoo; an aching throb in my chest hitting me like a pounding hail storm.
Was that all a dream? No…that was no dream. If it was, how could I explain this bizarre marking on my chest? It certainly wasn’t a birthmark; I think I would recall during my sixteen years of life of having a clock shaped tattoo right over my heart.
This had to have come from—no, it didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. I should be dead.
Am I dead?
I was stabbed right through the heart—I shouldn’t be alive. I shouldn’t have woken up in some random room with a guy (no matter how hot he was) hovering over me. Wouldn’t I be in the hospital? Was this a hospital? But the amount of overwhelming questions that spiraled around like a twister inside my puny mind couldn’t even compare to the one thought that was seared in my skull.
I should be dead.
What the hell was going on?
Tick, tick, tick.
My ears perked up. I listened closer.
Again. Tick, tick, tick. The sound of…ticking. A clock ticking. It was very faint, yet it sounded close, so close I felt like I could feel the hands on this mysterious clock move…inside of me—
Someone hammered against the door with such force I thought it would break. The thundering jolted me out of my thoughts. Hastily, I buttoned my shirt back and tucked it in, but my hands felt unusually numb, like my body was just going through the motions. Nothing was making sense anymore.
“Hey! Are you okay?” someone yelled, and I recognized it from the boy who was waiting on me in the nurse’s room (at least, I assumed tha
t it was the nurses’ office after my mind seemed to clear a little). With every knock on the door the pounding in my head and the aching in my chest grew worse.
I scuttled over and shoved the door open, almost knocking the poor guy to the ground. He stepped back, clearly surprised and raised his hands in surrender, like I had a gun pointing at him or something.
“Who are you?” I asked, thankful that my headache was starting to fade. But the pain in my chest was another story…“I mean, sorry to be so rude—”
The guy shrugged, “Nah, its okay. I’d be pretty freaked out it if some stranger tried to follow me into the bathroom.” He gave a pretty nervous smile, and I got a flash of his pearly whites. I stepped back a bit, letting the door swing close behind me, and took a good look at this supposed “stranger”: shaggy blonde hair that was matted to his forehead, sharp cheekbones, nice sun-kissed tan, soft grey eyes like the underside of a cloud, and a simple red and black tracksuit that clung to his body like a second skin. Those were St. Mary’s school colors. He must be a St. Mary’s student…just like me.
His smile was cute. Very cute, like, model cute. I couldn’t help but blush a little. My heart started to a-flutter just from his cool gaze. A-flutter. Wow. I really must have knocked my head hard to come up with something girly like that. (But it was true, though. My heart certainly felt “a-fluttery” at the moment).
“Let’s not forget that part where you were watching me while I was sleeping,” I reminded him with a small smile, “But really…who are you? And where am I?”
He whistled, “Wow, you don’t even know that you’re in the medical wing of the gym? I thought all students knew that.”
The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) Page 2
