Catching Temptation (In Darkness She Fades book 1)

by Sarah Erber

  Chapter Two

  Rosewood High

  “I can’t believe it either,” I declare into my cell phone. “To think Rosewood is a place and not a person. I feel stupid.”

  Karma laughs on the other end. “At least you found it, right? Wish I could be there with you.”

  “Least we can still talk. What do you think I should do?” Karma and I discussed on numerous occasions what questions we would ask Rosewood, but that plan is dead.

  “I guess you’ll have to try and find your dream monster. Ask him what he needs saving from. You’d better be careful. These creatures sound different from the ones we’re used to.”

  “They are different. I thought he was going to laugh at me when I called him a monster.”

  “So you have another question; what is he? Make a list. I’ll think up a few more questions. You sound like you’re out of breath. What are you doing?”

  “Crunches.”

  “Seriously? I thought you stopped doing them before bed.”

  “It’s the only thing that helps me sleep. If I wear myself out, I won’t have nightmares of the accident.”

  Our flow of words pauses.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “Mom’s calling me for dinner. Call me when you start school. Hope it goes well for you.”

  “Me too.” I do not want Karma to leave, but I say, “Bye.”

  Karma hangs up.

  I collapse on my four-poster bed and toss my cell phone on the comforter; exhausted from carrying box after box into the 3000-square-foot house. “Maybe Aunt Sally buying such a huge house wasn’t a good idea after all.” A thick baseball bat rests against the bedpost. I keep sweeping over the area where the monster man vanished. Shivers, similar to the feeling of carbonated liquid on my tongue, roll down my back and sizzle. The thought of demonic creatures attacking me whenever they pleased deeply disturbs me.

  As I lounge on the newly made bed, the scent of the fresh linens wafts through the air. White tarps still cover the furniture. I have been so busy helping Aunt Sally with cleaning I did not have time to finish my room. A framed photograph of my parents lies on top of the veiled dresser. I stare at dad. His facial features mirror his twin brother. This fact makes it difficult for me to look at Uncle Jack. Mom, on the other hand, looks like a princess from an Indian fairytale. Away from the photo, a tower of boxes blocks my bedroom door. No way are those fat, freaky spiders going to invade my room while I’m sleeping.

  Disgusting things.

  Speaking of freaky. I stare at the drapes capturing the darkness so well. Those needed to be open.

  Naked legs off the comforter, I amble over to the bulky drapes and tug on their drawstrings. The drapes part and give me a grand view of the front lawn. The shadows of the night devour most of the yard, except where it touches the gravel road. The streetlights flicker when hypnotized bugs ram into their intoxicating glow. Closer to the window, I stumble – almost falling. “What the heck?”

  A dusty tarp covers an object in front of the half-circle of windows. I lift it. Dust clouds the air like baby powder, sparkling with flecks of silver when the streetlight from below hits the particles. Swiping the dust away, my other hand rests on a window seat decorated with a couple of lavish pillows in different hues of purple. “Wicked! My room freakin’ rocks.” The drapes billow, reminding me of my uninvited visitor. “Well, kind of.” His feral eyes enter my thoughts. Those eyes, shining in the darkness, possess a frightening promise of abduction.

  Still enraptured with the unexpected treasure and foreboding memories, a sharp howl of the wind derails my attention. My head snaps up at the faint cackles of children’s laughter. The frost from my breath spreads out across the glass. Forehead pressing against the cool glass, I stare down at the road and expel an uncontrolled shriek. Out in the middle of the street are five teenage boys on motorcycles. Their blank stares shine in the streetlight like an animal’s eyes. They are not human, nor are they monsters.

  The pale boy at the front of the line grins like a devil with a contract. He inclines his head to me in a mock bow. His bleached hair glows as if it were a spiked halo.

  He never blinks.

  None of the boys do.

  Revving up his engine, he speeds off in the direction of town. The other boys follow and the unsettling laughter dissipates along with them, abandoning me to the music of crickets.

  The bedroom door flies open. The empty boxes guarding the door sail across the room, hitting me like dodge balls. I jerk around, knocking my head against the window, and emitting another horrifying shriek. Dammit, is everyone trying to put me back in the mental institution.

  “What’s the matter, Crazy? Did the big bad spider – whoa!” Daniel spots the luxurious window seat. “I didn’t know this room had one of those.”

  A trickle of pleasure rolls down my spine at Daniel’s covetous gaze. “Guess what else I have, genius?” Away from the fogging window, I stroll over to the bathroom door. “Ta-Da,” I say, mimicking Daniel’s earlier choice of words.

  “I don’t have my own bathroom. This is my room.”

  “Nope. Too bad. You had first choice and you graciously gave it to me.” Fluttering my eyelashes, I ruffle his hair as I would a puppy dog. “You’re such a sweet guy.”

  His freckled lips part to protest further, but Aunt Sally strides into the bathroom.

  “Wha–?” Aunt Sally touches her mouth. “This is beautiful! I had no idea this room came with a bathroom.”

  “I found it when I moved a few things around. I also have a window sea–”

  “Mom, it’s not fair. Me and Nathaniel should have this room!” Daniel stomps his foot.

  My hands ache to slap him. Sometimes I wonder how he ever made it into high school.

  “It’s Nathaniel and I – and why are you complaining? You boys have the largest room in the house and there’s a perfectly fine bathroom across from your room.”

  “But–”

  “Leave your cousin alone. It’s time to go to bed anyway. It’s almost midnight and Nathaniel is passed out on the couch.”

  Daniel’s glare weaves an invisible tale of murder. Aunt Sally places a hand on his shoulder and steers him out of the room.

  Contentment swells in my chest. Though I dislike Aunt Sally, she does not act like a wicked stepmother from a fairytale. The covered furniture teases my curiosity. I grasp the cloth nearest to me and slide it off.

  “Wow!” A wooden dresser, hand-carved with angels and demons, has luminous mirrors on each drawer. They glitter in the chandelier light. A mirror lay across the top of the red-mahogany dresser. Though the carvings are beautiful, the carved demons kill the mood of the whole room. Beneath a separate cotton cloth, reveals a vanity with the same carvings and mirrors as the dresser. It is awesome compared to pressed wood bookcases and cheap dressers that I am used too. I stare at my reflection. My hair stops at my waist and matches my bohemian tank top and jeans airbrushed with tribal designs similar to henna tattoos.

  A smile forms on my blood-red lips. The jeans, a gift from Karma, warded off many impish creatures in Urbanna. Hopefully it will keep working in Rosewood.

  A burly object in the shadow-laden corner catches my attention. I move away from the vanity. The object draws me nearer like a magnetic pull. I yank on the cloth. A wardrobe, matching the rest of the bedroom furniture, almost touches the ceiling. Its doors creak. I grip the sleek knob and peer inside.

  Shining eyes leap out.

  Too startled to invoke any sound, I shut my eyes and lift my arms to ward off my predator.

  Nothing.

  No roaming hands or even breath caress my tingling skin. A tiny sound, similar to the beat of a ceiling fan, stops at the window. The small creature spread its’ wings, desperate to escape the bedroom.

  I relax. “Crap, I’m going to have high blood pressure before I even turn twenty.” I march over to
the creature cowering next to the window. As I open the window, it flies off into the night. “Stupid bats.” I kneel on the window seat and lean against the frame. “Guess they’re better than spiders, though.”

  The wind whistles through the cracked window, reminding me of my strange moment with the motorcycle gang. “Probably the town’s wannabe bad-asses,” I speak my thoughts aloud. Tomorrow ends my last day of freedom before school. Friends are fine, but minimal attachments mean an easier life. I do not want to get hurt again. Everyone dies. Nothing is timeless.

  The following day Daniel and Nathaniel run off after lunch, leaving the majority of the unpacking to Aunt Sally and I. Uncle Jack calls mid-afternoon and, to Aunt Sally’s dissatisfaction, says he will be arriving in a couple of weeks. By suppertime, we finish hauling the white tarps off the furniture.

  After a filling supper of fried chicken and biscuits, I stumble up to my bedroom. Following a long bath, I slip beneath the crisp sheets of my bed. The house hums lullabies and whistles tunes to lull its sleeping occupants into a dreamy wonderland. I love the idea of having the most individual room in the old-fashioned house, but the noise makes me uneasy. I toss and turn most of the night. Waking up several times to the sound of creaking, I swear I heard footsteps. Once or twice, I thought someone breathed across the side of my neck. I only manage to sleep with the light on and a baseball bat tucked underneath one arm. When the morning sun bursts through my window, I realize the source of the strange breathing came from a cracked window I forgot to close.

  I fumble to dress myself for the first day of school. My nerves kick in. “Stop it,” I say to my stomach. “You’ll only make it worse for me.”

  In front of the mirrors on the wardrobe, I inspect my black outfit. D-rings and chains hang from my pants, complimenting my corset-style shirt with long bell sleeves. I decide to leave my hair down and use natural toned make-up, except for my eyelids, which I dust with a shimmering silver powder and black eyeliner. If my unapproachable clothing does not scare people, I know the bindi tattoo across my forehead will. It practically screams pagan. “Wonder if I’m setting myself up to be crucified.”

  “More like you’re ready burn at the stake,” Daniel drones from the doorway. “Are you trying to terrify everyone at school? I hope you realize I’m going to school too and I don’t want your freak reputation.” He stomps down the hallway, forcing the wiggling spiders to flee for their lives.

  The ceilings tower so high above Aunt Sally’s head, she had to spare a few spiders and their webs when she cleaned the hallway the other day. If Daniel keeps up his temper-tantrums, I will not have to worry about slaying those rogue spiders.

  A little fly buzzes in graceful movements in the air, oblivious to its surroundings. With another twirl, it rams into a spider’s web; caught forever in the tangled simplicity of a net. It will never escape the death trap. The tragedy may have been avoided, if only the little insect paid attention to the danger all around his world. I marvel at the irony of how the flies’ life equals my own.

  I swing my Indy bag over my shoulder and dash downstairs. As I enter the kitchen, I notice Daniel’s expression.

  Crap, here it comes.

  “Mom, make her change! I don’t want people to give me crap–”

  “Daniel–!”

  “–because she can’t be normal.”

  “Your normal and my normal are two completely different things. If you don’t like the way I look, make up a last name, and say we’re not related,” I say. “Our skin color is entirely different anyway. I doubt people would even be able to tell I had a white father.”

  “Absolutely not!” Aunt Sally cuts into our argument. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your father, Temptation, and you do look white. What’s wrong with–?”

  “She has a point,” Daniel says, to everyone’s amazement. “But I have a better idea. I’ll tell everyone you’re adopted.”

  “Daniel!”

  “Works for me.”

  Aunt Sally blinks at me, apparently lost for words. Nathaniel breaks the tension when he points out the time. Ten minutes until school starts. Within one minute, everyone loads up in the car and we speed into town.

  “Great. We still have to register.” Daniel checks his hair in the passenger mirror. He attempted to tame his haystack hair with gel, but managed to make it look like thousands of tiny needles poking out of his head. He plays the part of a celebrity pop star well.

  My muscles tense and ache with a burning desire to yank Daniel’s head back. The idea of him not having everything the way he wanted scores as an unobtainable pleasure.

  Daniel gives himself a satisfied smirk in the mirror.

  The car arrives at Rosewood High School. Daniel and I hurry out. We shut the car doors and Aunt Sally drives off to Nathaniel’s school, leaving the two of us in a cloud of suffocating dirt and crushed gravel. I swat the dirt from my clothes while Daniel rushes to the school with a harsh warning to, “Stay away from me!” He struts to the school doors and disappears behind them.

  With a doubtful frown, I amble up to the front doors and step into the dully-lit hallway. Pleased to see multiple lines at the registration booths, I wait at the nearest one to the exit. The damning eyes of the female students cause my fears to rise. No friends will come from this crowd. Daniel slouches in the back of a line talking to a couple of guys dressed like heavy metal rock stars.

  “What a little hypocrite,” I mutter.

  Only the side profiles of the two guys are visible, but I immediately know they are twins. Shoulder-length hair feathers out around their faces. The singular distinct difference between them is one has lightning orange hair and the other, onyx hair.

  Daniel and the twins roar with laughter.

  I cannot contain a budding twinge of jealousy toward my cousin. A few girls behind me whisper and cackle to each other. It appears they think I cannot hear their mock whispers. They are dead wrong.

  “Look at the way she’s dressed.”

  “–Probably worships the devil or some Hindu God–”

  “–Jenkins is going to have his hands full with this one.”

  Their whispers confirm my fears of prejudges toward new students. In the crowd, I cannot see a difference between any of the girls. No Goth chicks. This sucked.

  “Next!”

  I step forward, inspecting the older woman sitting behind the cheap foldout table. Her gray hair frames her oval face, while a pair of tiny spectacles rests on the tip of her pinched nose.

  “Mercy – look at you!” The old woman removes her reading glasses to get a better look at me. Her nails, the color of dirt and mustard, distract me from the taunts of the crowd. “I declare, this is the first time in years since we’ve had someone who has shown a spark of individuality. Love the nose ring. Unfortunately, it’s not allowed to be worn in school, but I’ll not make you remove it. It’s not my job.” She winks. “By the way, I’m Mrs. Peters. I work as the librarian and after-school choir teacher. What’s your full name, Dearie?”

  “My – Oh.” Slightly taken aback by the speed at which the old woman spoke, I shook my temporary confusion away. “Temptation Belladonna Falls. It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Peters–”

  “What a poisonous name. Delicious. It delivers a ring of death to it.” The black haired twin speaks softly over my shoulder. The noise from the other students mutes as if someone turns the volume down so the surrounding voices are almost inaudible.

  I crane my neck to observe his face, but he departs as swiftly as he arrived. The noise spikes back to normality. “Weird.”

  “What, Dearie?”

  I jab a thumb behind me and say, “That guy is weird.”

  “What guy?” Mrs. Peters’ eyebrows scrunch together, while observing the awaiting students in line.

  “The heavy metal guy who spoke in my ear a second ago.”

  “I didn’t see anyone. You glanced over your shoulder, but no one was there. Oh! You must hav
e heard one of the students nearby and thought they were talking to you. Happens to me all the time.” Mrs. Peters smiles and extends her withered hand for my transcript papers. “Getting down to business, we’ll have you registered in no time. What electives would you like to take?”

  “Art. I love to draw and paint. Guess I wouldn’t mind taking a dance class as long as I don’t have to do anything in front of the school.”

  “What about choir? Do you sing at all?” Mrs. Peters pierces me with her hypnotic gray eyes.

  A chilling wave of memories prickles the hairs on my skin. Flashes of the car crash speed through my mind. My sheet music for that night’s performance flying all over the car, dotted with flecks of blood. “No. I’m sorry Mrs. Peters, but I’m horrible at singing.”

  “Shame, we needed another singer.” Mrs. Peters finishes her scribbles on the paperwork. “Here’s your class schedule. You will need to get your photo taken for your school ID. Please take advantage of the library; we have an excellent young adult section.” She winks.

  “Thank you.” I abandon the foldout table and stroll over to the line for photo ID cards. Ten minutes later, I clip the ID tag on my black widow pendant. A group of skaters chill out on one of the lunch tables. Marching up to the group, I say, “What’s up?”

  An awkward moment of silence causes me to feel like an idiot. The skaters’ blank stares do not help the numbness pumping through my veins. “Could one of you tell me where Mr. Hollenbeck’s Biology class is? I’m sort of new.”

  “Sort of new.” The girl with brown dreadlocks speaks up. A nasty smell wafts off her hair. “No. You’re either new or you’re not. There’s no sort of about it. Dang, I’m not even that stupid when I’m stoned. Pathetic.” The girl’s sinister eyes square me off before disregarding me altogether.

  The boys do not interfere, but their anticipation for a catfight reflects from the eagerness in their eyes.

  I am not amused. “Look, miss-reeks-a-lot, I didn’t come over here to get a stupid answer of what you think of me. I asked where Mr. Hollenbeck’s class is. But I guess a pothead like you already smoked yourself stupid if you can’t even recollect one question.”

  Skater girl jumps up. “I’ll drain you for dinner–”

  One of boys, scrawny and tall, snatches the skater girl’s raised fist.

  “Whelan let me go!”

  Whelan ignores the fidgeting girl and points down the jammed hallway. “Go out into the courtyard in the middle of the school and you’ll see the sign on one of the doors.”

  “Thanks.” I desert the harassed skater girl to the encouragement of her friends. Abandoning the cafeteria, I stride toward the courtyard. “So much for starting over.” Pulling out my phone, I insert my earphones, and tune out the material world suffocating every happy emotion left within. I do not understand why the drumming rock music calms me down, but I embraced it. Arm and hip shove the metal door, and I enter the sunlit courtyard. The chains on my pants ping together while I stride down the sidewalk. A giant maple tree shades the middle of the courtyard. A group of students congregates beneath the bushy branches. Surveying the crowd more closely, I notice Daniel in the group. A snooty-looking girl sneers in my direction. The orange-haired twin wraps his arms around the girl’s waist. His eyes find mine. He smirks.

  I returned my attention to seeking out the Biology classroom, ignoring the couple. Arriving at the door, I reach for the smudged handle.

  “New girl!”

  I freeze. Twisting my rigid body back to the gathering students, I remove the earphones.

  Slightly above the crowd, the other twin lounges on the stiff bark up in the tree. He slouches forward on a curvy branch. His muscular arms bulge against the branch. No wonder he’s so popular. Probably has a big…ego, too.

  “If you’re depressed, I know a way to make your troubles disappear.” His bewitching grin seems as sweet as frosting and as deadly as poison. I know I cannot trust him.

  It must be mess-with-Temptation-week. The gleam in his eyes causes a burst of blush to redden my cheeks. Daniel laughs with the rest of the crowd.

  The girl with the fire-haired twin yells, “I’ll give you something to make you hallucinate, then you can pretend you have friends.”

  The crowd snickers. Daniel shouts, “She doesn’t need any help with hallucinations. Two days ago she swore she saw monsters in skeleton masks.” Daniel and most of the crowd laughs; the twins, however, stare at me as if frightened and fascinated by what they heard. The brunette girl shifts and wraps the orange-haired twin’s arms tighter around her pale shoulders.

  The restraint in me snaps. “Go to Hell, Daniel! The rest of you can join him.” I thrust the classroom door open and inwardly curse the creatures who resurrected me from the dead, as well as the monster who scolded my suicide attempts. It’s not fair.