Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1)

by Marie F. Crow

  “It’s in the kitchen,” Aimes says smiling, returning Richard’s.

  The pixie is ready to play.

  “I hope that’s not what’s for dinner.” Richard’s smile grows, baiting my friend as he sits on the bench beside her.

  He is about to learn why one should not bait Aimes as she continues the verbal match, dropping the pitch of her voice to a soft feminine whisper of intentions. “I hope it is,” she says.

  “Well,” Richard says, leaning in close to her with her invitation, “I guess we will have to go find out. The only real question is will we need utensils or our fingers to eat tonight?”

  He lingers there staring into her eyes for a moment with his enjoyment of her expression before returning to Dolph. I think Aimes was just out Aimes’. Dolph is shaking his head with amusement and pats Richard on the shoulder as he passes. I am still wondering what just happened when I hear her whisper in my ear.

  “Dibs,” she calls, as she follows them with more speed than I have seen her move all day.

  Dinner is relatively uneventful as we join Simon’s table, much to Shelia’s delight. I suppose she is not the only one who grows tired of being the only girl amid a male-centered group. I let the conversations flow around me, keeping myself reserved in my own bitterness of how things once were. It’s not only J.D. who is having a hard time accepting the many changes taking place for our group with our bonds slipping away.

  With her meal already complete, Kira dances around the table in a game of “Duck, Duck, Goose”. Simon is the only “goose” she ever picks, and he chases her each time, resulting in her high- pitched laughter. My sinking mood helps me reach the darkness inside me faster than normal tonight. Doors open on rooms I have tried to keep nailed shut with each laugh circling me with their game. Their hinges creak like a soft moan as memories escape from the cracks.

  When laughter of a different pitch joins in with the one around me, I refuse to look up. I’m too afraid of what I may see running around the table. Will Lilly’s eyes be joyful or hateful with my failures? Will her gown be white, or crimson soaked, leaving red footprints in her wake? Will she be alone or surrounded by the rest of the Angels I have failed with their damning eyes watching me?

  “Won’t your boys be missing you?” Dolph’s southern drawl startles me when he asks me the question. He nods when I stare at him, not understanding him. His eyes are looking behind me to where I imagine the rest of our group is sitting.

  “Didn’t have plans to ask them.” I resist glancing behind me, and his eyes lock with mine. He is searching my face and try as I might, I slip my mask.

  My mortar has been cracked today, leaving my walls vulnerable and weak. He sees it, but just nods. I have never appreciated his avoidance of conversation more than I do right now. It is times like these when I appreciate the advantage of being friends with males. They do not feel the need to ask any in-depth questions to push deeper into your troubles. They don’t expect for you to either. My scars. Your scars. There are no “our scars” with men. “You think your group is up for a little fun?” Simon asks us.

  I hope he means more than just us for whatever he is thinking with the glint in his eye.

  “Define “fun”?” Aimes must be holding the same thoughts with her direct question.

  Paranoia is our new perfume. It is like Obsession, but cheaper. “Looked over the list today. We are running low on some of the things needed. Seems your boys could use a little escape and I’ve seen what you consider as amusing,” Simon says, and his smile reaches his eyes as he teases me about the incident with the truck.

  “We don’t hold much sway with them anymore. You’ll have to ask yourself. They don’t normally pass up the chance to cause a little mayhem though.” I smile back, pretending to not catch on to his meanings.

  “Rhett is growing bored,” Aimes offers.

  “Always a dangerous thought,” I say, as we fall into our normal pattern of conversation.

  “True story,” she begins

  “They probably miss their bikes.”

  “Been a whole, what, two days now?”

  “Devastating.”

  “To be sure.”

  “We are running low on C’s”

  “Which C?”

  “The most important one.”

  “I thought they were all important?”

  “Not like this one.” She pauses in our volley to make eye con- tact trying to hint of which one she is speaking. The eye shift to Richard across from her gives me the best clue.

  “Truly devastating,” I offer with condolences.

  “Is that a yes?” Simon is trying to follow our conversation. The look on his face telling us he has not. He does glance at Richard though, wondering what he has missed.

  “It is a “yes” we will ask them. Not a “yes” they will do it,” I explain, helping his mental train get back on track. “Hand me the list of what you need.”

  “We need,” he corrects me. “One big happy family now, remember?”

  “Of shining happy faces,” Aimes adds as she smiles.

  I take the list to give the men we have been avoiding all day. She cannot pass up the chance to tease Dolph, who still refuses to join her fan club.

  “Hey Dolphers, say porn for me?” she asks him sweetly.

  Dolph’s face holds confusion for a moment before a slow smile spreads across his lips. He looks to me with those deep colored eyes of his. “Porn,” he says, letting the word develop more syllables than it should hold with his southern drawl.

  I smile. I did. I smiled.

  Aimes and I take our trays to the drop off window, signaling for a very happy Chapel to come with us. At least he was very happy. Now as he falls in behind us, he is closing down the emotions he was allowing himself to show with Paula. We walk to the table before us as if we are preparing for war. Each step is pulling us deeper behind mental shutters to help protect and to help us face the man watching us. J.D.’s face shifts from cautious to amused seeing our path leading us to him.

  “Well, well, lookie here, boys. You are playing messenger now, Barbie, or have you just come to your senses finally about where you belong?” J.D. smiles at me, sharpening his stick to poke me where it will hurt the most. The wooden shavings will stay lodged in as burning splinters for days to come.

  “…and here that is why I thought we were sitting over there, Hells,” Aimes counters his verbal attack. It takes some of the joy from his eyes.

  “Simon wants to know if we feel up to a supply run,” I say, as I ignore them both.

  So much for Aimes not getting involved in our little domestic drama as I had earlier asked her. She is sharpening her own stick ready for the fight. Sometimes I wonder if she really listens to me or just nods to shut me up.

  “We, huh?” J.D. asks.

  “Yeah. Guess Simon still seems to think we are a part of this group.” Aimes yawns, showing her boredom with having to be near them.

  Yup, she just nods to shut me up.

  “Either you do, or you don’t want to get the items.” I try to interrupt their verbal match before the blows start going low. “If you don’t, then fine. I am sure Dolph, Richard and I can go find them.” “We got it,” Lawless says, taking the paper from me. He is as shocked as I am with his sudden outburst. We stand staring at each other, unsure of what to say to one another anymore.

  “You will need my truck to carry it back. I will meet you in the morning when you’re ready to head out,” I offer. These are not the words that I want to say to him. These are the only words I can say to him with so many watching us, hoping for a show.

  “You will be staying in that truck,” J.D. tells me, taking the paper from Lawless before heading out.

  “You forgot your tray,” Aimes tells him, still not ready to let go. I am thinking of a few nicknames for her at this moment. Chihuahua comes to mind first.

  J.D. nods, picking up his tray with a false smile. “Anything for my girls,” he says, with a sarcastic bow as
the other men follow him with theirs.

  Aimes sighs in frustration, heading for the courtyard, which is conveniently in the opposite direction from the path the group takes. I watch as we split into two groups again with a sigh of defeat. Holding a closed fist up to Chapel, I offer to play “Rock, Paper, Scissors’” to figure out which path we will take, but he only laughs, leading us to follow Aimes. Like we really had any other choice?

  Chapter 30

  Those sitting in the cafeteria did not miss the little play of power. The further whispering of rumors rapidly spreads through the confined space as so many are wondering what this new group holds for their peaceful lifestyle. One table sat watching with vested interest while the scene played out before them. Their ears strained for any piece of the conversation to reach them, but the distance was too great between where they sit and the table that became the center of everyone’s attention.

  The people were too skilled at keeping their voices and their movements subtle and between only their circle. Fighting the urge as hard as they could, they could only grab moments of eye contact being too worried over being caught staring. When the fragments headed in different directions, each person of the table formed opinions of what had happened.

  “Think they will do it?” Dolph asks those at the table around him.

  “We’ll see. Looks like it’s a go,” Simon says, but he is watching the larger of the fragments walking away. His hopes lie with them.

  “I think it is horrible to set them up like this.” Shelia rocks the sleepy Kira in her lap. “They are mean enough to those two without you three adding to it.”

  “It is not a set-up.” Dolph tries to sooth her, trying to ease her concerns over the situation. “We need to see where they sit and not just the girls. All of them. We need to know if we can trust them or not after this morning. It’s better this way.”

  “Well, I don’t agree,” she hisses, picking up the sleeping child to leave. “Leave me out of it.”

  “Shelia,” Simon calls to her but the only answer is her continued exit from the room.

  “Will she be alright?” With a touch of concern for the situation, Richard looks to Simon for advice.

  “I’ll talk to her. I’ll help her understand it. She has grown close to the girls,” Simon sighs, sensing the battle ahead for him.

  “I’m wanting to grow close to the blonde.” Richard smiles a male smile with a hint of a blush.

  “You would,” Dolph teases his friend with his own half smirk. “What? She’s fun.” Richard nudges his friend. “She may just be very fun.”

  “That one will eat you alive and use it for her next comedy skit when bored.” Simon laughs.

  “No, that is the other one. What’s her name?” Dolph asks. “Helena. Why do you say that?” Simon moves his seat to get a better view of the men sitting at the table with him.

  “You can see it. In her eyes. That one has ghosts. She’s been through it,” Dolph says, remembering the way she looked at dinner.

  The men grow silent, each remembering their own past events, which have led them here. Shadows cross each face as the joy of the previous male topics flee from them. How quick conversations can turn the tides of emotions.

  “Any clue about what is going on with them?” Dolph asks. He looks to Simon since he is the one with the most exposure to the new group.

  “At first, I thought it was just them pissed off at Helena for risking her life at the Welcome Center for us,” Simon says. He drops his voice to an almost whisper before saying, “Something has happened though to make them this broken. You should have seen them at the Center. Like one mind kind of deal. J.D. just had to do a slight move and they all knew what to do. Now, they seem lost, like he is losing control over them. Maybe the girls don’t like Leslie sneaking in on what they think of as theirs. I know there is some tension between the darker one and Helena. Picked up on that when she tried to run him over.” Simon cannot help but smile at the memory. It piques the curiosity of the other two sit- ting before him.

  “Run him over?” Richard wears a smile with his question. “Yeah, in reverse.” Simon lets his laugh finish his sentence.

  “Should have heard Leslie scream. Best moment by far.”

  “Don’t think there are too many men in this place left who haven’t heard her scream,” Dolph counters, not bothering with any hidden meanings with his look.

  “That includes you?” Richard smirks, letting the trap Dolph has walked into snap shut.

  Dolph shoots them both a look of disbelief with their assumptions and laughter. “Screw you,” he says to them, only gaining louder laughter from the two until he smiles with their teasing. “Think they will figure it out?” Dolph asks once their laughter has faded into sly smirks.

  “Most likely. You don’t get to where they are in life without pulling a few of your own moves on people.” Simon is still recovering from his laughter. “Do you care?”

  “Nope,” Dolph says. “Just want to be prepared and just don’t want it coming back to bite us.” He stands to start his nightly rounds.

  “Ross knows what to do,” Simon says, stretching and standing as those at the table are preparing to leave.

  “Yeah, just smile!” Richards says, imitating the big smile of Ross’ with his sentence.

  Each man laughs as they say goodbye for the night. Each has a duty to do before he can escape to a world of secret dreams. A world of their own needs where things are better for them and loved ones are still close to them. A world they can never find again.

  There is one among them who knows well the sting of walking alone. This one stands with his mind racing for what tomorrow may bring for everyone under this roof. This would not be his first time watching a group fall apart. He knows the aftermath a fall-out can bring and the weaknesses it can cause when people are pushed to having to act. Dolph heads into the night as his ghosts are whispering into his ear.

  Chapter 31

  This is bullshit.” Rhett’s voice vibrates the room with his anger after reading the list.

  The men decided to make a trip to the school’s weight room after breakfast before heading out to fulfill the obligation they were trapped into taking on last night. They each have their own issues to burn off with the exertion of their workout and the emptiness of the room allows them to talk freely. Knowing what the day holds for them, their moods are darker than the vests they normally wear.

  “Yup.” J.D. pauses, straining to press the weights he has al- lowed Lawless to place on the bar.

  “Why are we doing it then?” Lawless asks, keeping an eye on the man he is spotting.

  “We ain’t doing it for them,” J.D. says, placing the bar back onto its steel holder. “We’re doing it for our girls,” he says. “We are taking back what is ours. They are getting too close and cozy with the new folk. That includes Chapel. We need to remind them three where their loyalties lie.”

  Rhett and Lawless stare at J.D., only half curious where this new plot will lead them because they both know they have no choice but to follow along whatever course J.D. places them upon. “Thought that’s what you wanted?” Marxx asks. He has continued his presses with disinterest in the conversation. He is not the only one missing the feminine laughter, which was once theirs to enjoy.

  J.D. stands with one graceful movement of his anger, making his way to Marxx’ bench. He stands staring down at the man, making eye contact before lunging. J.D. presses his full weight down on the already heavily weight-loaded bar and it comes to rest on the throat of Marxx. J.D. never breaks eye contact with the man below him.

  Marxx fights to keep the bar from crushing his throat under J.D.’s weight while they stare into each other’s eyes. Rhett and Lawless become statues as they have been trained to do, investing no emotion and harvesting no satisfaction from the situation. Anything else could put them both in the center of a storm no one can predict.

  “Did you say something to me, Marxx?” J.D. holds constant pressure on his neck, see
ing if Marxx will continue speaking against him.

  He does.

  “You pushed Chapel away. You pushed Hells away. We all knew Aimes would follow her. You did this.” Marxx is fighting against the weight and the rage of J.D. and yet the other man’s rage is not as hot as his over what has happened by the hands of their leader.

  J.D. leans harder against the bar, daring him to speak more. Marxx accepts his dare.

  “You pushed Leslie on Law. You knew what it would do to Hells. You’re just pissed you didn’t break her. You made her stronger. Now you can’t control her. She isn’t yours anymore, neither of them. You were too much of a dumb ass to stop when you had the chance. She gave you the chance, but you threw it in her face. You’ve lost them. You’ve lost,” Marxx says. He is almost spitting the words out as the bar and his rage push him to his limits.

  J.D. forces the bar down on Marxx’ neck, crushing it. He holds the pressure, making the other man fight for every breath as he kicks and struggles to free himself. Marxx fights against J.D., desperately trying to get any inch of space between his throat and the bar. His face is growing redder with each passing moment as air is denied to him. Without warning J.D., releases his hold on Marxx, walking away from the man to sit back on his original bench.

  The room is silent. The only sound comes from Marxx as he tries to fill his lungs with the air from which he was deprived. His throat is discolored from where the bar was pressed, but it pales in comparison to the molted shades of his face. Each man in the room is waiting for either an explanation or exclamation from J.D. with a different expression as they wait.

  J.D. sits staring at the floor while he rehears Marxx’ words over and over again in his mind. “I know,” he finally says when his silence makes the room almost suffocating.

  J.D.’s voice is so quiet at first the men doubt they heard him. Their brows furrow with the doubt as they look to one another. “I know,” he says again, placing his head in his hands to hide from their eyes. “It’s why we’ve got to do this. We’ve got to prove we can keep them safe again, that they can trust us. We’ve got to bring them close again. Those girls have been with me since they were teens. You remember, Rhett. You remember how small they were when we first saw them. How shy of us they were? Just little things,” he does a small laugh with his memories, remembering the days gone past.