Beyond Sight (Coastview Prophecies Book 2)

by Simone Pond

  On Monday morning, Eli drove the four of us to Hillside University. I told them about my half-asleep, half-awake experience from the previous night, explaining the bluish-green glow that came up from under the floorboards. I concluded it had to be the power of the Holy Rock and because it came from below, I discerned its location must be somewhere underground.

  “That’s probably why you’re having trouble finding it,” I said to Vago.

  He stared off for a few contemplative moments, then said, “Interesting theory. I’ll start looking into it.”

  “Ugh,” I grumbled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” I refrained from letting him know that his newfound collegiate attitude was highly annoying.

  He patted my shoulder in an “old-chum” manner, which only irritated me more. “I said I’ll look into it.”

  “Before or after you ask out Brooke Thorne?” I snipped.

  “Let it be,” Eli said with a laugh. “He deserves a little fun. We’ll find the rock.”

  “It’s all good,” I said in a casual tone, though I was anything but. If that evil presence I’d felt in the middle of the night was any indication of what was coming, we needed to be a little more prepared. But I settled into my seat, not saying anything the rest of the ride.

  We parked and walked to the main quad. I kept quiet, stewing in my agitation. Marlo’s dazzling turquoise spirit sparkled as she parted ways to begin her day of wall-to-wall classes. I still didn’t understand why I couldn’t see her the way I could see Eli and Vago. I figured it had something to do with her skill level and our connection. If I figured out how to read the vibrating tome on her supernatural abilities, maybe I’d find out. For sure, more would be revealed in time.

  Before heading to molecular biology, Eli leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered into my ear. A rush of tingles raced to my chest and lingered there as I watched him dash off into the black landscape.

  Vago walked ahead of me toward the campus coffee shop, seemingly in a daze. I trailed behind. He hardly said goodbye when he dropped me off.

  “Bye!” I shouted.

  “Catch you later. And don’t worry about the rock. I’m on it,” he said, giving me his most charming of smiles.

  “Mm hmm.”

  He was on something all right. About ten doses of Brooke Thorne.

  I ordered my decaf latte and chocolate chip muffin and nestled into my armchair tucked away in the corner. I think I was actually starting to enjoy being on campus.

  The morning slogged on, and I read through Esther’s book on demons and supernatural combat, getting a little more backstory on the dog shifters that had been turned. The other book on teleportation kept vibrating in my messenger bag like a cellphone blowing up. Something kept telling me to take it out and open it. That same voice that had been giving me other instructions. I figured I had nothing to lose. But before I did anything, I glanced around to gauge the activity in the coffee shop. There were a few flickering and glittering spirits. I decided to risk it.

  I took out the ancient book and opened it. Once again, a flash of energy rushed over me. But I couldn’t see a single thing. I touched the pages. Still nothing. Then something told me to let my hands hover over the pages. That’s when a torrent of information blasted into my consciousness. My mind was absorbing the words through some sort of telepathy, using my fingers as the conduit. The thrill was exhilarating as the data bombarded my mind. Only I couldn’t make sense of it because the thing read like 12th century Middle English. My mind began to overload and a sharp pain ripped across the back of my head. I slammed the book shut. Whoa. That was trippy. And intense.

  I leaned back and let myself relax a minute, listening to the surrounding conversations.

  “Emma didn’t come back to the dorm last night,” said a girl who was standing nearby waiting for her drink order.

  “She was probably too hungover. That frat party was ridic,” her friend replied with a chuckle.

  “We shouldn’t have left without her,” the girl said, her dusty rose spirit fading in and out.

  “Please! Like she would’ve come back to the dorms with us when three hot guys were all over her.”

  “That’s what I’m kinda worried about.”

  “You worry too much, Samantha. Just chill. Emma is fine.”

  Samantha’s dusty rose spirit dimmed a bit as they grabbed their drinks and sat on a couch close by. I kept my eyes aimed toward the book in my lap so they’d think I was reading. They sipped their drinks, not saying anything. The tension felt like a pressure valve. The quieter they were, the more I thought about the missing girl. And the more curious I became. My instincts told me it wasn’t just a case of too much partying, but possibly something supernatural. So like a good detective, I closed my book and looked over at them.

  “Did you say something about a missing friend?” I asked.

  “Oh, my friend is overreacting,” the one girl said.

  “Actually, I don’t think I am,” Samantha said.

  I asked, “Have you told anyone?”

  “Do you think we should report it?” Samantha asked.

  Her friend huffed, irritated. “No way. She’s not old enough to be drinking. She could get into trouble.”

  “But what if she’s already in trouble? She could’ve been roofied or something. What if those guys raped her? We’re the worst friends ever!”

  I reached over and patted Samantha’s knee. “You wouldn’t be concerned if you were a bad friend.” I paused.

  Samantha took my hand and squeezed it, her dusty rose spirit brightening up. “I’m going to the campus police. Are you coming, Hailey?”

  “I guess,” Hailey said.

  “If you come back here, let me know what happens. I’m usually perched in this chair,” I said.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Sibyl Forsyth. What’s yours?”

  “Samantha Lindo.” She stood up and studied me a moment. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but your eyes are really cool.”

  Hailey huffed again. “Duh. She’s visually impaired.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

  I laughed. “It’s fine. I hope you find your friend.”

  When the girls walked away, a shiver ran across my shoulders. I regretted not getting Samantha’s phone number. I also didn’t know how helpful the campus police would be. I could no longer concentrate on either of Esther’s books because something gnawed at me. I became so restless I couldn’t even sit in the coffee shop. I spent the rest of the afternoon pacing along the campus paths, using my watch with the built-in GPS to navigate the way.

  “What are you doing wandering about?” Eli’s voice came up from behind as he grabbed my waist and pulled me in close for a kiss.

  “Was feeling claustrophobic. Strange day.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Not sure. The good news is, I’m able to read the book on teleportation,” I said, changing the subject.

  “What? How?”

  I lifted my hands and wiggled my fingers. “Either the book is using telepathy to transfer the information into my head, or my powers are expanding.”

  He smiled, kissing my fingers. “That’s so cool!”

  “One caveat,” I said.

  “You need a translator?”

  “Yeah. I’m not too savvy in Middle English.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said.

  “I do like a challenge.”

  Vago and Marlo met us by the coffee shop, and the four of us headed to the parking lot. I gave them a brief recap of my day. Marlo was elated to hear the news about the book. Vago was quiet and pensive. I didn’t mention anything about the missing girl. She could’ve just been a freshman college student who drank too much at a frat party.

  ***

  At home, I sat in front of the computer and researched Middle English terminology in Vago’s room. He
padded around by my feet, listening to the monotone robotic voice of the screen reader dispersing information. When he grew weary of the tedious litany of verbiage, he gave a half-hearted bark and jumped up on the bed. He was snoring in minutes. Aunt Ruthie poked her head into the bedroom, asking if I wanted any dinner, which I declined. I slipped on my headphones and continued my grueling internet research on the ancient vocabulary. The droning of data was the least of my troubles. By the time I deciphered the book on teleportation, Marlo would be an old lady.

  While I was resting my ears and brain, the screen reader automatically started spewing off information about quantum physics. Boundless data that made no sense to me whatsoever. Why was this happening? I wanted to wake up Vago and ask him to shift back into his human form to explain what was going on, but then it hit me: Marlo was studying to be a physicist. Of course! She’d be able to comprehend her supernatural powers using a scientific mindset. I wanted to thank whatever had nudged me in the right direction.

  Chapter Eight

  Vago

  On Tuesday morning, I dropped Sibyl off at BB’s and headed to Professor Whitmore’s class. The lecture hall looked more like a studio audience for an afternoon talk show. Girls jam-packed themselves into the first few rows and ogled Whitmore as he stood at the front of the room in his dark slim-fit slacks and Prada jacket. My new jeans and pullover suddenly looked second rate. I wasn’t a total idiot. It was obvious I didn’t stand a chance with his fan club. Even the gals he never even looked at were enamored by his presence, hoping and clinging to the idea that he might just peek over at some point during his lecture.

  The slides about the history of philosophy flashed in succession behind Whitmore. I was hardly paying attention because I was more interested in his assistant Brooke Thorne. She was sitting down front, clicking buttons on the laptop to change the images on the big screen. Images of philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, and Descartes. There were also some supposed-to-be-funny cartoons and photos of beautiful astral novas thrown into the mix. On the screen behind Whitmore, the slide paused on a question: What is man’s place in the universe? I was more interested in Brooke’s place in my universe. She glanced back, her sleek black ponytail flipping over her shoulder. The glow coming off of the laptop illuminated her dark brown eyes. I thought I noticed her full rosebud lips curl into the tiniest of grins.

  “Anyone have any thoughts on this?” Whitmore’s deep voice echoed through the lecture hall.

  The manicured hands of at least twenty young women shot up, but Whitmore looked past them and focused directly on me.

  “You, sir,” he said, pointing to me.

  “Um, Vago Townsend,” I replied. I’d decided Townsend was as much my name as Eli’s so that’s what I was going by. We weren’t blood related, but Esther had raised me since I was a pup.

  “What do you think man’s place is in the universe, Mr. Townsend?” Whitmore’s baritone pitch carried all the way up to the mid-section.

  Being a dog shifter, I didn’t feel qualified to answer the question. Whitmore continued staring at me, waiting for a reply. Some of the girls turned around to see who he had addressed. Brooke smiled and gave me a wink, which totally set me up for the challenge. Now I had something to prove.

  “Man’s place in the universe is to seek the truth. Be loyal. Eat well. And probably a lot more, but that’s all I can come up with on the spot.”

  My comment got a few laughs.

  Whitmore gave a curt nod. “I like it! You see, ladies and gentlemen, each individual in this room has a different idea about man’s place in the universe. And that’s one of the many areas we’ll explore this semester.”

  He continued speaking, but his voice became muffled and the room faded in and out. Sharp pangs pounded through my frontal lobe. No, not now. Not in the middle of a lecture … But stopping a vision would be like stopping a rocket that just launched. I gripped the arms of my chair. My eyes fluttered. My jaw clenched. The lecture hall, Whitmore, those stupid slides, and the gorgeous Brooke Thorne faded away …

  I’m inside a mansion. A ballroom with tiered balconies. Ivy drapes over the sides and along the pillars. Sibyl is holding my hand. The room is dimly lit and the shadows dance by the flicker of candlelight. Along the perimeter, hundreds of young women stand naked and shivering. Their ankles and wrists are shackled with archaic iron chains. They wear blindfolds made of red silk over their eyes. In the middle of the ballroom sits a wooden stake with metal pegs nailed to it.

  Through the clamor of rattling and clanging chains, two hooded men in black robes yank one of the girls from the circle and drag her to the middle of the room. One of the men lifts her arms and attaches the chain to the iron peg above her head, while the other one secures her ankles to the platform. She wriggles and cries out, writhing to get away. Muffled cries ripple throughout the circle of young women.

  From the shadows, another hooded man stalks forward. His robe is red. He holds a silver dagger that glows brightly. The two men in black robes step back so the one in the red robe can be alone with the woman chained to the pole. She’s crying quietly, wet spots appearing on the silk blindfold. The man steps closer, tracing the dagger down her neck and collarbone.

  He shouts, “The blood of a virgin, sacrificed for my lord. May his reign reach to the sea and beyond.”

  In one swoop, the red-robed man lifts his arm like a wing and brings the dagger across the young woman’s neck, slicing so deep her head dangles to the side, connected by only a few tendons.

  I was heaved back into the moment like a boulder dropping from the sky. I did a quick spot check, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed what had happened. The few people sitting around me were focused on Whitmore, who was pointing to a chart about the three metaphysical doctrines of time. Brooke glanced back at me again and mouthed, Are you okay? To which I gave her a resounding thumbs-up even though I felt like my lungs were tied in a huge knot. I looked at my phone. Another forty minutes left. I needed to get to Sibyl so we could talk about that atrocious vision.

  Chapter Nine

  Sibyl

  The loud thump of Esther’s heavy book landing on my feet flung me back to reality. Fortunately, the coffee shop was in the midst of a mid-afternoon lull and nobody had witnessed me having the vision (which I’m thinking resembled a panic attack). I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. My body quivered. This vision was extensively gruesome in detail. By far the worst one I’d ever seen. The imagery of those poor girls chained and bound. Their cries shivered across my mind. The blood of virgins? It was obviously a sacrifice, but what the hell? Something the man in the red robe said reminded me of the fire-winged demon, Abaddon. May his reign reach to the sea and beyond.

  Vago rushed into the coffee shop, his face ghastly pallid. He grabbed my shoulders and lifted me out of the chair.

  “What. The. Hell.”

  I forced him onto the couch. “I know. I’m sick over it.”

  He chugged some of my water. “That was wrong.”

  “Red Robe’s definitely working for Abaddon. Called the demon his lord. How much territory do these assholes need?”

  “All of it, apparently.”

  We sat staring. What could we say? Customers came into the shop and placed orders. The coffee grinder buzzed. People bantered. But we just sat there in shocked numbness. In our silence, I caught wind of a nearby conversation.

  “My friend Julie—the 4.0-er—didn’t show up for class yesterday. And last night, she missed study group. So unlike her. I called campus police this morning. But they were completely unhelpful.”

  “Get this—I heard a bunch of sorority girls are missing. There was a big frat party last weekend and some of them never made it back home. And apparently there’s also something happening down—”

  The rest of the sentence got cut off by the loud blast of the steamer machine. I turned around to see the group of girls’ sparkling spirits walking out of the coffee shop.

  I grabbe
d Vago’s arm and pulled him closer. “Did you hear what they were talking about?”

  “No. I’m still messed up over that vision.”

  “Girls on campus seem to be going missing. Then we get a vision of some virginal blood sacrifice … Not at all coincidental?”

  “What do you want to do?” Vago asked.

  “Follow those girls and ask some questions. See where it leads.”

  Outside on the campus, I could only see spectrums of colorful spirits flickering across the landscape of black. Vago led the way. We caught up to the girls, out of breath. Their soft blue spirits were the color of aquamarines.

  “Excuse me!” I yelled, bumping right up against one of them.

  “Watch it!” she snapped.

  “Sorry, I’m blind.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the girl said.

  “Are you okay?” another girl asked.

  “Actually, we need to talk to you,” I said.

  “About what?”

  “Your friend Julie,” I said.

  “You know Julie?” the snippy one asked, suspiciously.

  I sensed she was going to be difficult, which meant I’d have to be sneaky. I wasn’t thrilled about lying, but I didn’t have a choice. “One of our friends is missing,” I said.

  Vago applied some of his down-to-earth charm. “We’re trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “We went to the campus police, but they said she hasn’t been gone long enough to be considered officially missing.”

  “It’s bullshit!” one of the other girls snapped.

  “I agree. Do you remember where you saw her last?” I asked.

  “Was it a party?” Vago asked.

  The snippy one laughed. “Julie at a party? No way. She lives at the library.”

  “So was she last seen at the library?” I asked.

  “No,” the timid one said. “She was trying to get into a class that was already full. Some weird one with that celebrity professor …”

  “Whitmore,” Vago and I said.