Beyond Sight (Coastview Prophecies Book 2)

by Simone Pond

  We walked down the aisles until I found a rack with baskets of baseballs. She reached into the baskets, taking out baseballs and weighing each one carefully in her hands.

  The shop owner, Sandy Walsh, a buff man with a brown pompadour shellacked in place, strutted over to Sibyl. His coaching shirt stretched across his broad chest and his microfiber pants were snug around his tree trunk thighs. He could probably rip apart a human, but his smile was warm.

  “Thinking about getting back into the game?” Sandy asked.

  Sibyl jumped back, dropping both balls.

  He bent down and picked them up. “Didn’t mean to give you a start. It’s me, Sandy Walsh.”

  “Hi, Mr. Walsh. I was just …” She looked over at me for support, but I walked over to a rack of gloves. “Um, I don’t think they let blind people play ball. Seems a bit unsafe.”

  He chuckled. “Not true. Not true. You hear about Joe Buizon and The Renegades back east?”

  I glanced over at Sibyl. She shook her head.

  “They basically adapted the game of baseball for the blind and visually impaired. It’s called Beep Baseball.”

  “That sounds interesting. And dangerous,” she said with a soft laugh.

  Sandy guffawed, nudging Sibyl with his elbow. “Anyway, the pitcher and batter are on the same team. When the batter hits the ball, six fielders on the other team go after the beeping baseball. If they get it before the batter reaches a buzzing base a hundred feet from the plate, he’s out. If the batter gets to the base first, he scores. You should look it up on the internet sometime.”

  “Beep Baseball. Yeah, I’ll be sure to check it out. But for today, I just want to buy a few balls for old times’ sake. Get used to the feel of it in my hand. No softballs, though. Just baseballs.”

  He grabbed a twelve-pack of balls from one of the shelves and handed it to her. “These are on sale this week. I’ll put it on your tab.”

  Sibyl’s cheeks burned red. “Oh, but I don’t have a tab anymore.”

  He slapped her back and walked with her up to the cash register. “Sure you do. Just promise me you’re gonna check out Beep Baseball. Maybe start up a league in Coastview.”

  “I don’t know about all that. But I’ll at least check it out,” she said.

  “Stop by and tell me what you think,” he said.

  As I followed behind them, I grabbed a couple t-shirts from one of the racks and a baseball cap. When I got to the counter, I tossed them next to the twelve-pack of balls.

  “Can you put these on her tab, too?” I asked.

  “And who might you be?” Sandy Walsh lifted his chin and squinted his pale blue eyes.

  “This is Eli Townsend’s cousin, Bruno. It’s okay to put it on my tab. As long as it’s not too much.” She pinched my arm.

  “Ouch! Just a couple of new tees and a baseball cap. I need some new gear for school.”

  She was quiet for a few seconds, then addressed Sandy. “Do you think you could help my friend find some new shoes too? And do you sell jeans?”

  Sandy chuckled. “No jeans. Have to go down to Kat’s Corner for that. But we do have a decent selection of Vans and Converse. Come on, kid. I’ll get you situated. What are you studying at the university?”

  “A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” I said.

  Sibyl interjected, “He has no clue.”

  “I’m taking a couple of classes. Metaphysics with the world-famous Professor Whitmore.”

  We walked to the shoe section, and I sat down on the bench. Sandy measured my feet; his large biceps flexed even when he wasn’t trying.

  “Is that the fellow who’s on all the talk shows? Has a few best-sellers?” he asked.

  “Yep. He re-examines the concept of existence, death, and the nature of reality through myth.”

  Sandy grunted as he got up. “Sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus to me.”

  “He was voted one of the most influential leaders in the field,” I said in Whitmore’s defense.

  Sibyl let out a hearty laugh. “He was also voted one of the most eligible bachelors in California. It’s common knowledge that the hottest girls on campus take his class.”

  “That too,” I added with a grin. “Who am I to argue with reason and logic?”

  Sandy shook his head and went to the back to grab some sizes.

  I squeezed Sibyl’s hand. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “You deserve to look nice for the ladies,” she said. “But I refuse to let you get a baseball cap. We’ll stop by Kat’s shop on the way home and get you some jeans.”

  She rubbed my head the way she does when I’m in dog form and instead of pulling back, I let her.

  A new demon and evil dog shifters might be coming for us, but at least I’d look stylish for the ladies on campus. It felt good to be rejoining the world. No offense to Sibyl and her back yard sanctuary. But it was time to venture outward. My memories were slowly returning. Though they seemed more like faded movies from someone else’s past, I did inherently know how much I enjoyed being around people. Philosophizing and sharing opinions. I was looking forward to taking Whitmore’s metaphysics class—not only for the hot ladies, but to expand my mind. Maybe it would give me a better understanding of my supernatural purpose. Sibyl believed Esther’s books had the answers. She might’ve been right, but I wanted to explore things for myself. To see what else was out there waiting to be discovered. In addition to the Holy Rock I couldn’t seem to find.

  Chapter Six

  Sibyl

  Eli picked up Vago and me on Monday morning. Marlo got out and moved to the back seat. I sat in the passenger seat and leaned across, kissing Eli on the cheek. He handed me a rather heavy book.

  “It’s about teleportation and telepathy,” he said. “But there’s one hitch.”

  “It’s not in braille,” I said, opening the book and grazing over the smooth pages.

  “Sorry. It’s all I could find. Maybe it’ll speak to you …” Eli handed me another dense book. “Here’s another one on dog shifters and demons. This one is in braille.”

  “Looks like I’ll start with this uplifting read.”

  As we drove to campus, I felt a bit jittery. Being out in public was one thing, but being around a bunch of people my age who were doing things with their lives was another. I shoved the large books into my messenger bag, moving the three baseballs to the outside pocket.

  “Why do you have baseballs?” Eli asked, glancing down at my lap.

  “You never know when you might bump into a demonic entity roaming around campus,” I explained.

  He simply nodded. “Hmm.”

  Marlo piped up from the back seat, “What’s that about demonic entities?”

  “She’s joking,” Vago said, laughing.

  “Are you?” Marlo didn’t sound at all convinced.

  I turned to the back seat and smiled at her sparkling turquoise spirit. “It’s not like they’re strolling around campus killing people. They’re a lot more covert. They’ll look like normal people to you.”

  “Like those guys who kidnapped me,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  “The ugliest, most grotesque creatures you can imagine. Usually made of fire. Sometimes oily, slithery shadows. And I guess now I’ll start seeing evil dog shifters. Oh, and a lizard reptilian-looking thing. Can’t wait to meet that one.”

  The car was silent for a few seconds.

  “That’s terrifying,” Marlo said.

  “It’s not so bad. I’m getting used to it,” I said.

  Vago patted my shoulder. “She’s come a long way.”

  I knocked his hand off. “It’s still creepy.”

  Since Vago had the latest class and the lightest load, he was assigned to be my morning escort across campus to the coffee shop, which had the unfortunate name of Buzzin’ Beans. We unanimously renamed it BB’s because … awful. He found me a large comfy chair in the corner with a view of the place
. Not that I could actually see anything other than a bunch of spirits flickering and flitting about. And these spirits were raging. College students. It might’ve been the high-octane dark roast coffee. After my first cup, I switched to decaf lattes to avoid arrhythmia.

  Vago left to go to his famous professor’s metaphysics class to flirt with hot college girls. I nestled into my corner with my nose aimed toward the book on my lap, which was totally unnecessary since I was reading braille. I hoped this would deter any college boys from engaging in conversation, but no.

  One guy with a bright copper spirit removed the hefty book from my hands. “What class is that for? Ancient history of dungeons and dragons?”

  “Just some light reading.” I smiled.

  “The pages are blank.”

  “It’s braille,” I explained.

  “Oh, so you’re, uh, you can’t, um …”

  “I’m blind.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.”

  “Not really, but nice chatting with you.”

  The entire week was like a psychological study in human relations. By Friday, I was thinking about offering a class to freshman boys on how to communicate with the opposite sex.

  Despite the distractions, it ended up being a decent week. I discovered the name and brief background of the fire-winged demon: Abaddon. Apparently, he’s fairly high up on the demon ladder. A destroyer of all things. His game is imbuing humans with powers and knowledge of supernatural mysteries—at the cost of sacrifices, of course. And he’s very territorial. But he rarely does his own fighting. He deploys under-demons and willing humans to do his dirty work. As I read Esther’s book, I wondered who on earth would ever sign over their soul to such an evil creature? Well, Chief Pike, for starters. But for what? I could hardly imagine the exchange. “Hey, Pike, I’ll make you powerful beyond your imagination, but you have to sacrifice a bunch of people for me.” Like that wouldn’t obviously end horribly …

  The other bonus from my week studying at “BB’s pick-up central” was regarding that relic of a book on teleportation that wasn’t in braille. It began to vibrate. The first few times it happened I assumed it was only my imagination, since I was absorbed in reading the demon book. But on Thursday, as I was zoning out and wondering who the demon Abaddon’s new patsies were, it was quite obvious the thing was vibrating. I opened it up and felt a flurry of energy rise up from the pages. The effect was so shocking, I immediately slammed the book shut and shoved it into my messenger bag to deal with in a more private setting.

  Friday afternoon, after his final class for the week, Vago dropped down on the couch next to my throne in the corner of the coffee shop.

  “How’s it goin’?” he asked.

  “I’ve been getting a lot of Friday foot traffic. Invites to frat parties and such. I was hoping by now everyone would know about ‘the blind girl’ and want to steer clear,” I said.

  “Blond hair, pretty face, striking blue eyes … Whaddya expect from hormonal college boys?”

  “Please! I’m blind.” I laughed.

  “Yeah, but they aren’t.”

  Before I was able to reply with some witty rebuttal, a woman with a ruby red spirit and a potent fragrance of velvety tuberose approached our area. Though I couldn’t actually see her, I sensed she was a beauty.

  “Hi, Vago!” She sounded entirely too sultry and alluring for a college student.

  “Oh, hey, Miss Thorne! So, Whitmore allows his assistants to leave the classroom?”

  She released a flirtatious giggle along with a spicy metallic scent that had a bite to it. She was coming on to Vago!

  “Who’s your little friend?” she purred.

  I considered myself petite, but the way she said little sounded like a snub.

  “I’m Sibyl,” I said.

  “I’m Brooke Thorne. Teacher assistant to Professor Whitmore.”

  I know she was holding out her hand to shake mine—I could see her sparkly red spirit reaching toward me—but I stared blankly ahead.

  “Sibyl can’t see,” Vago said.

  “Oh, my bad.” She pulled back her hand. “I just came by to grab a salad before the next class. Whitmore does allow us to eat once a day.” She stepped away. “Nice meeting you, Sibyl.”

  “You too, Miss Thorne,” I said in my most professional tone.

  After she walked away, Vago brushed his hand through his messy brown hair. He had that effortless look going for him. The new jeans and blue t-shirt complemented him well. But I could tell he felt uncomfortable.

  “Wow,” I mumbled.

  “What?” Vago tried to sound innocent.

  “Your eyeballs just hit the floor.”

  “She’s pretty hot,” he said.

  “She’s a T.A. I’m sure there are other hot girls in the class who won’t stir up drama.”

  Normally, I wouldn’t care who Vago chose to pine over, but something about Brooke Thorne pricked at my insides. I didn’t say anything else though, because something told me to keep my mouth shut.

  ***

  Driving home, Marlo was nodding off in the back seat of Eli’s car, her head bumping against the window. Vago was talking about the girls in Whitmore’s class and how they were way too captivated by the professor’s charm to give him the time of day.

  “Sounds like your plan to meet the hottest girls on campus failed,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  Eli stared ahead, holding the steering wheel a little too tight.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Just a little stressed over some of these classes. And I have to work tomorrow,” Eli said.

  “How about you drop me and Vago off? We can catch up Sunday. Aunt Ruthie wants you to come over for a late lunch.”

  Eli’s sigh of relief filled the car. “That would be great. Are you sure? I’d much rather hang with you, but …”

  “I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate,” I said, smiling.

  Vago leaned forward. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her company. We need to go shopping. And do something about this hair. Time to take things up a notch.”

  I shoved Vago away, laughing. “See, I’ll be fine. Vago wants to groom himself for Whitmore’s hot assistant.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Eli said, reaching over to give my hand a squeeze.

  The electricity that sparked between us would never get old. I let it take my breath away. Allowed my heart to beat stronger. Permitted myself to open up to this gorgeous guy sitting a few inches away. I wasn’t in a rush. Not when I was already overwhelmed with the growing intensity of emotions. I wanted to walk the bases with Eli Townsend, savoring each step.

  Eli dropped us off, and Marlo stayed in the back seat, mumbling something about texting me later. Poor thing was overloaded and probably still not a hundred percent mentally prepared to jump back into life. But Marlo was a go-getter. I didn’t want to stand in her way with my slow-cooker approach to things.

  Vago and I walked up to the house. I touched the face of my watch. Not much time before Aunt Ruthie got home from the historical society.

  “You need to hurry up and shift,” I said.

  He opened the front door. “I was serious about the hair appointment.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt. We can go tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Sib. It’s for a good cause.”

  “Now should we call the groomers or a hair salon?”

  “I might’ve liked you better when you were sulking in the back yard,” he said, laughing.

  “I wasn’t sulking. Healing,” I said in my defense.

  “Hulking. Healing and sulking.”

  “College is making you so clever,” I teased as we walked inside and headed toward our separate rooms. I glanced over at him. “How am I supposed to pay for all of this upkeep?”

  Vago stood by his bedroom door and removed his t-shirt, giving me a wry grin. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

  ***

  On Saturday evening, after a long day
of reinventing Vago’s collegiate image, I was exhausted. We trekked around Coastview, picking out new clothes and getting his shaggy brown hair coiffed into a more sophisticated style. The shorter around the ears, longer on top look was an eye-catching improvement. When we got home, he shifted behind some bushes, and we went inside and straight to our rooms. I put his new clothes into our secret hiding spot under my bed, then passed out the moment I pulled the blankets up around my chin.

  At some point in the night, I found myself in a half-asleep, half-awake state. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or having a vision. But I sensed an evil presence in the room. Almost like a noxious gas. The heavy presence filled the air and began to encase my limbs and curl up my neck. I tried to roll over to get out of bed, but my body was pinned down. I tried wriggling around to wake up, but I was paralyzed. The air began to evaporate. I couldn’t pull in a breath. I couldn’t scream for help.

  From the shadows, black oil began to ooze toward me. It covered the floor and started to rise. The bed began to rumble and quake. I worried I’d be tossed off the side and drown in the pool of black oil rising up. Then from under the floor, a bluish-green glow began to emanate. The radiant light burst through the black oil in bright rays. The whole room lit up diamond-white, and the evil presence lost its stronghold over my body. I could breathe again …

  I shot awake.

  My shirt was drenched with sweat. My heart was palpitating. That was really creepy. Beyond creepy. That was outright wicked. Evil to the bone. Terrifying. The house stood quiet. Eerie and vapid. I touched the face of my watch. Three in the morning. That definitely wasn’t a vision. But it wasn’t a dream either. It was the moment before the dream state. And it seemed like a place where evil spirits had access to me. This thought disturbed me deeply, leaving an icky feeling of violation. Yet, I remembered there was something else with me in that place. A luminous glow that emerged from underneath the floorboards and filled the room with radiance. Deep in my soul a voice whispered, and somehow I knew exactly what had entered that place and saved me from the cesspool of evil.

  Chapter Seven

  Sibyl