Sticks & Stones

by Jason A Anderson

  Mr. and Mrs. Morris had declined to attend, sending their regrets with Monique, instead...a fact that really irked her. She toyed with the idea of making some outlandish claim on their behalf and creating as much trouble for them as she could, hopefully without damaging her own reputation. The idea gave her a small tickle inside.

  Deciding she couldn’t put it off any longer, Monique checked her pearl-white overcoat pocket one last time. The small flower bud rested there, as it had the handful of times she’d already checked it. Satisfied, she passed through a row of parked cars and joined the procession headed silently into the viewing.

  Jean stood awkwardly beside the Rainn girls, self-conscious of the carefully concealed, tender bruise above her right eye. She often felt gawky around Spring, Summer, and Autumn Rainn.

  Jean forced a smile at Rena as her friend walked the length of the viewing hall to join them. “How’re the guys doing?” she asked.

  “Chad’s trying real hard to keep it together,” Rena replied, the concern for her special friend evident in her voice. “Kurt’s quiet, of course, so who knows.”

  Jean nodded in understanding. Chad, P.A.S.S.’s technical guru, always tried to be as tough and stoic as Kurt and Toff had been. She knew him to be more tender hearted than he let on. As for their security specialist, Kurt, his silence came as no surprise. Without understanding sign language, anyone would be hard pressed to get a decent read from him. He rarely spoke aloud and with the pain he felt with the death of his best friend, Jean guessed most people would have better luck trying to get blood from a stone.

  “They’re getting last minute pallbearer instructions,” Rena finished, then whispered, “How are the girls?”

  Jean winked a silent, encouraging reply. The self-supportive attitude of Toff’s three surviving sisters came as a bit of a surprise to her. The loss of their baby brother, Cristoff, had now reduced the quintuplets to triplets...three beautiful blondes, exact duplicates of one another. Their oldest sister, Noelle, had died in an accident in their childhood. Even Cristoff had had that same attractiveness, but with more of a “pretty boy” flare, rather than his sisters’ femininity. Jean knew their flower-like delicacy to be a carefully crafted facade, however. All three had several years of experience in self-defense training. Toff had often joked that he didn’t need to watch out for his sisters, that he’d “ just get in the way of whatever beat down was necessary”; they did a better job watching out for him. Except for the one time he really needed them, they hadn’t been there...it was guilt that Jean felt acutely, as well. Unfair, she knew and she couldn’t fathom how the three girls were holding it together. It almost seemed overwhelming to try and comprehend.

  “I just overheard one of the mortuary employees complaining that other memorials had to be rescheduled last minute to accommodate Toff’s,” she continued softly, so only Jean could hear.

  The redhead whispered back, “That doesn’t surprise me, given the amount of damage the town suffered.”

  “Well, look who’s just walked in,” Spring grumbled quietly, for the benefit of Jean and Rena, Jean was sure. The Rainn girls rarely spoke audibly to each other, preferring instead the internal way of communicating they had demonstrated many times for the benefit of their friends and family.

  “Who?” Rena asked, from where she stood to Jean’s left.

  Spring nudged Jean’s right elbow, directing her attention at the large atrium’s main doors.

  “Is that Monique Morris?” Jean asked.

  “Where?” Rena asked and Jean nudged her the same way Spring had.

  Rena glanced over at the entrance and immediately scowled.

  “Yeah, that’s her. She’s got balls coming here, after the things she’s said about us,” the normally cheerful girl practically growled.

  Jean put a soothing arm around her friend’s back and said, “Don’t worry, no one believes anything she says.”

  “Yeah,” Summer agreed from Rena’s other side, “and anyone that does can just--”

  “Summer!” Autumn whispered sharply, clasping her hand over her sister’s mouth, saving them all from the middle sister’s diatribe.

  Taking control of the situation, Spring stepped around to face the other four girls. “Like Jean said, no one that matters believes anything she says. Ever since she tried to spread rumors about her and Toff, her credibility is shot. Just be nice and she’ll be out of here soon enough.”

  It always surprised Jean how mature the Rainn girls could be - well - Spring could be. Even though they looked like duplicates of one another, all three of them had distinctly individual personalities. That’s not to say they couldn’t pull a fast switch-up if one of them was in need of the other’s assistance, but if Jean paid close enough attention, she could usually tell if that happened.

  No sooner had Spring made eye contact with each girl and turned back to the large room, did their classmate arrive.

  Monique had her long, dark hair pulled back in a black band, showcasing her olive complexion and piercing eyes that took in every detail of the somber assembly.

  Jean hadn’t ever gotten to know her, since they hadn’t had any classes together and never ran in the same social circles.

  “Hi,” Monique said, looking so mournful that Jean sensed a complete lack of emotion. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  Jean watched as Monique gave Spring, Summer, and Autumn a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek, making eye contact with each as she did so. That itself wouldn’t have seemed out of the ordinary, except for despite Jean’s aloofness about the subject, she knew exactly the type of things Monique had said about Toff and his sisters, as well as unfavorable things about Jean herself.

  Monique nodded at Jean and Rena, then moved off toward where Toff’s open casket sat at the front of the large hall.

  In an attempt to clear her thoughts, Jean shook her head and turned to look out of one of the room’s large windows. Most of the viewing hall was enclosed exclusively in glass, giving it a feeling of openness, with a view of the beautifully maintained grounds beyond where so many of the town’s founders had been laid to rest. The day had grown cloudy and more than a touch gloomy and without realizing it.

  Curiously, Jean opened herself up to her sight. Her ability to use the special skill she had gained as a Chosen of the upcoming Eternity War was unreliable and tenuous, but today she felt a particularly strong pull to look around and see the things others couldn’t. As she cast her gaze out along the grounds, it didn’t surprise her to see the colorful collection of glowing orbs hovering motionless, most about two feet above the grass. Some of them perched directly in front of a headstone, others slightly offset from the nearest marker. Jean surmised this was due to a shifting in the ground over the years that had the location of the interred and their marker slightly out of alignment.

  Rather than trying to perceive every single orb’s individual radiance, Jean instead focused on the smaller ones. While most of the orbs looked about the size of a basketball, there were many scattered around that more resembled the size of a softball or tennis ball. Without completely understanding how, Jean knew these to belong to the young ones buried beneath the glowing spheres. The smaller the orb’s size, the whiter its coloring tended to be. Some of the larger ones took on greens, blues and yellows and the occasional orange. She could only see two smaller red spheres from where she stood. Without knowing exactly what the colors meant, she guessed that it had to do with the personality of the child; it was something she intended to ask Valera the next time her Guardian turned up.

  Monique waited patiently in line. The most unpleasant part of the viewing had gone off without any drama, which was good. The last thing she needed was for one of the Rainn girls to throw a tantrum and get Monique thrown out before she could leave her gift for the deceased.

  H
er hand carefully cradled the small white blossom in her pocket and a silent thrill shot through her. It had taken three attempts and quite a bit of bleeding before she had achieved success with the conjuration. Her earlier practice with the book over the last several days had aided her in this, her most ambitious task, yet.

  Only a few more steps and she stood in front of the pale blue casket. Trimmed in silver accents with white linens, it looked very...wholesome to Monique. When her gaze fell upon the fair, boyish features of Cristoff Rainn, a tiny thrill ran through her from her soles to the crown of her head. He did indeed look like his sisters, just a guy version...attractive with his pale skin and almost white-blonde hair. His eyelids were closed, otherwise she could have seen his ocean blue eyes staring lifelessly back at her. Discreetly, she retrieved the small white blossom from her pocket as she leaned down and whispered to him, “No one rejects me and gets away with it. I hope you get exactly what you deserve.”

  With that, she blew him a subtle kiss and placed the blossom on the table that held the casket. It immediately blended in with the rainbow assortment of flowers already there. She whispered a few simple words she’d memorized from the book, then stood and walked away. As she did so, she discreetly glanced over at the girls. All three of Cristoff’s sisters–and the Archer skank–were staring daggers at her, which Monique returned with a smirk. Without comment, she made her way to the entrance of the main hall and then slipped around to one of the side alcoves to wait. She wouldn’t have to wait long.

  Less than a minute after the white blossom was placed and the ancient words recited, the gray clouds outside suddenly erupted in a magnificent display of lightning.

  Jean’s attention, along with everyone else’s in the room, immediately jumped from the somber assembly to the violent electrical show beyond the atrium’s tall glass walls and ceiling. Without any conventional walls to block the view, the entire viewing hall lit up in bursts of color with each lance of lightning.

  Looking around, her sight no longer in use, because it played havoc with her depth perception, Jean sensed – rather than saw – more going on than just the electrical show.

  “Something’s not right,” she muttered, just as an oblong shape about twenty feet tall and fifteen feet wide began to glow red-hot in the tall wall of leaded colored glass. A moment later, a massive thunder crack rattled the entire room and multiple lightning flashes struck the metal frame of the windows directly behind the viewing stand, shattering the glowing windows and sending a blast of sound and energy into the room.

  The mourners fell like dominoes, amid screams of shock and fear.

  Jean crouched and managed to shield her face from the bulk of the debris as it blew past, catching the vaguest glimmer of Valera, standing between she and the deadly onslaught. With her shoulder-high staff held up, she managed to fend off the bulk of shattered glass and sheered metal.

  When she could see a moment later, relief flooded through her to discover her friends had ducked down together and remain unscathed; however, many to their right and left cried out in near panic, mixed in with a heavy amount of pain.

  A deep rumbling that vibrated through to her core drew Jean’s attention back to the cloudy, stormy sky. Behind the small viewing platform, thankfully, Toff’s casket lid had closed, but the casket hadn’t fallen from its reinforced cabinetry – a dark shadow loomed up where the atrium glass wall had been. She squinted to try and get a better look, but that just made it seem transparent, less tangible, so she opened her sight to it. Only then could she see Valera, bedecked in her unusual leather and mail armor, facing off against a beast that overshadowed her by at least ten feet.

  “Valera!” Jean called out.

  The Guardian’s staff glowed brighter amber, illuminated by the intricate runes carved into its surface.

  The creature spared a moment to stare at the warrior woman, then at her staff. With another monstrous bellow it turned and charged out of what remained of the viewing hall, into the deeper cemetery grounds.

  “As long as the creature’s incorporeal, I can’t do much more than keep it anchored in the general area!” Valera said.

  “Then what?” Jean asked over the cacophony of noise.

  Valera looked back at Jean.

  “It’s a minion of the Void. It’s going to be after any human it can get its claws into.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Jean said, moving to stand beside her Guardian, looking out the shattered remains of the wall of windows. The creature had managed to melt its way through, for the most part, then blew out the remaining material.

  “There are innocents out on the grounds. They have no way to defend themselves from its fury.”

  Looking around frantically, Jean said, “I don’t have my blade here, what do you expect me to do?”

  Noise behind her drew her attention back to where her friends were helping triage others in the room. All of the P.A.S.S. team members looked like they were alright. When she returned her attention to Valera, she took an immediate step back. If she hadn’t, she would have smacked her face into the end of a black, wrought iron bar being held out to her. About six feet long, with a fleur-de-lis roughly the size of her fist at each end, it looked like it could be effective.

  She accepted the hefty weapon, careful to avoid the sharp burrs at the ends from where it was torn from the decorative ironwork up near the ceiling. She swished the bar back and forth a couple times, getting a feel for its balance.

  “You need to keep it at bay until either the Cherubim or Battle Angels arrive.”

  “Right,” Jean muttered to herself. “A Chosen’s work is never done.”

  Jean sensed, rather than heard, Valera chuckle to herself.

  She looked over her shoulder to her friends and family behind her. The room continued to churn in fear, but not as panicky, an improvement from only a short time ago.

  Deciding everyone would be alright, she returned her attention to the acreage before her, noticing the weather outside had grown noticeably darker and more oppressive since Toff’s viewing began.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said softly. “All I wanted to do was come to the viewing, visit awkwardly with my friends, then maybe go home and cry while watching ‘Breakfast Club’.”

  “The choice is, as always, yours alone,” Valera reminded the girl.

  “The last time I chose my family and friends over my Chosen responsibilities...” she couldn’t finish the rumination.

  “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can say that your lieutenants seem to have everything here under control,” Valera told her.

  An appreciative smile twitched Jean’s face.

  “That helps, actually,” she said.

  Inhaling a bracing breath, she took the iron spear in both hands and strode determined, yet carefully, through the shattered wall of stained glass and out into the blustery afternoon.

  Surprisingly, the manicured lawns separating the funeral home from the main gates to the burial plots had survived the chaotic weather that had decimated so much of Shadow Valley and Pine Bow County only days ago.

  Using her sight in small bursts, trying to delay the incredible headache using it too much always caused, Jean was able to see the hazy black mass roaming just inside the massive, red stone archway into the burial acres. She hurried down the wide gravel path to the old metal gates that still hung open, but askew, looking like they’d been smashed open by debris and had yet to be repaired.

  Not letting herself give in to hesitation, Jean passed through the stone archway. If she concentrated, she could sense three distinct groups of people...and the beast seemed to be heading for the nearest one.

  An old cemetery rich with local lore and legends, it came as no surprise that the first bit of statuary she came across was the Huntress: a lio
ness carved from white marble, black veins running through its surface Jean had seen it many times; as a child, it became one of her favorite markers in the cemetery itself. It sat resting atop the above-ground burial plot of a young child. Jean couldn’t remember his name and it was too difficult to read in the gloomy light, but she remembered he had died at 7 years old. The lioness guarded his resting place, now, protecting it from interlopers and spiritual mischief.

  Jean ran her hand from the lioness’ neck and down its back, as if petting the large cat. The stone felt smooth to the touch, as it always had, no doubt due to the many other people that petted it daily.

  About a dozen yards away was the first cluster of mourners, but significantly closer a trio of children not more than five years old, were playing tag among the headstones.

  First the tallest of the three of them, a small blonde girl in a blue dress, would duck behind a tall grave marker then peek-a-boo the little girl and boy searching for her. It made for a great game, much more interesting than the quiet talking and crying all of the grownups were doing.

  Deciding to change things up a bit, the girl turned and ran the length of several headstones, drawing her friends along with her like little ducklings. Their laughter carried to Jean on the stiffening breeze.

  Their game of chase wound around the tall burial markers. Without warning, a black shadow the size of a house loomed up between her and the grownups across the way when she turned to call out to her small cabooses.

  Her laughter choked in her throat, fear banishing the laughter from her eyes. Though she had no experience with creatures from the Void, the little girl knew instinctively that this behemoth meant to kill her.

  Before she could clear her lungs and cry for help, the shadow beast bellowed and lunged at her.