Death, Doom and Detention

by Darynda Jones

  “I hope not,” Brooklyn said, reading a text on her phone as we wound through the stoic crowd. “Your grandmother says hey.”

  “She’s texting you now too? That woman is a menace.”

  “She’s funny,” Cameron said, sticking to us like a Post-it note. He took his job as protector very seriously.

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  Spotting Hector Salazar, a kid I’d known since kindergarten, leaning against his red locker, I waved a quick hello. He was a bona fide nerd and proud of it to the point of arrogance, but I never held it against him. He was smart. He knew it. Who was I to argue? Super smart or not, though, he usually waved back. Instead, he lowered his head and stared at me, his gaze expressionless.

  “What the heck did I do to Hector?” I asked no one in particular.

  “What?” Brooke barely looked up from her phone, but Cameron took hold of my arm and pulled me to a stop. He was really strong. Like supernaturally strong. So I stopped fairly quickly.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  I looked up in surprise as Brooke turned back to us and Jared came closer to hover and stare menacingly at Cameron.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I said, “Hector gave me a really odd look.”

  Cameron straightened and eyed the crowd from his perch atop his shoulders. Man, that guy was tall. “What kind of look?”

  Jared did the same before giving me his attention again.

  “A look. I don’t know. I waved and he just stared.” I lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t done a thing to him since the first grade. And that was totally his fault. I mean, I’m all for sharing, but there’s sharing and then there’s robbing your classmates blind.”

  Brooke laughed. “What did he want from you?”

  “My blue construction paper. All of it. Honestly. It’s not like construction paper grows on trees.”

  Cameron appraised the crowd before parking his gaze on Jared. Jared returned the sentiment and the glower-fest began anew.

  I elbowed Brooke and she glanced up to take in the stare-down before questioning me with raised brows.

  While Cameron’s eyes were filled with uncertainty, Jared’s were narrow, challenging. Again, it was so unlike him and, well, more like Cameron. Their roles had been switched. What on former planet Pluto was going on?

  “Where’s Glitch?” Brooke asked, checking around.

  “He had to go straight to class,” Cameron said before stalking past us.

  We followed. “Really? He didn’t say anything.”

  “I don’t see the new kid. Let’s just get you to science.” Normally, getting to class was not one of Cameron’s priorities.

  The boys seemed to be lost in thought as they walked us to first hour. We stopped outside the classroom, and I turned to say good-bye to them. Well, mostly to Jared. I wondered if there was a chance I could see what had actually happened to him.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked him, inching closer.

  His smile faltered and he camouflaged any emotion behind an empty expression. “I’m certain of it.”

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  He crossed his arms at his chest. “No.”

  I leaned forward and put my hand on his. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and stared intently. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Then, with his beautiful mouth tilted up at one corner, a playful grin sparkling in his eyes, he asked, “Are you getting anything?”

  I dropped my hand and rolled my eyes.

  A deep laugh, soft and gorgeous, sounded in his chest.

  “How do you always know?” I exhaled loudly and gave up. “Never mind.”

  He took my jacket and pulled me closer to him. “You’re giving up?”

  The world tumbled in my periphery, dissolved into nothing. “No.” Then when I could catch my breath, I said, “Never.”

  “We need to get to class,” Cameron said, completely breaking the spell I was under.

  We turned in unison to look at him. Mostly because he was standing really close.

  Brooke stepped closer as well, shouldering between Cameron and Jared. “Are we in a huddle for a reason?” She glanced at each one of us in turn. “I don’t want to be left out of the loop.”

  Jared’s mouth softened into a breathtaking grin. He reached over Brooke and shoved Cameron backwards. Not hard, just enough to let Cameron know he was not welcome.

  But Cameron came back. He leaned closer and said, “I’m not leaving until you do, reaper.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Jared said. “I’d hate for blondie to stroke.”

  Cameron scoffed and stepped back, waiting for Jared to follow.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Not until I know more.”

  “Fine.” I shooed him away with both hands. “Get to class. History awaits.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think Mr. Burke likes me.”

  “That might change if you’d stop correcting him.”

  He raised his hands helplessly. “Your history books are full of errors. I’m just trying to help.”

  * * *

  In science, the class was studying the effects of sugar on cellular structure. I was studying the effects of Jared’s presence on my nervous system. It was kind of scientific. Jared was the stimulus and I was the test subject. Oddly enough, every time the stimulus was presented, the test subject’s cells flooded with adrenaline. Clearly it was a valid test. I should publish.

  But I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened exactly. It would take something very powerful to bring down Jared. He was almost indestructible. Who could do that? What could do that? And his behavior was different. To deny that would be infantile.

  But still. That grin.

  I was busy replaying that grin of his in my mind for the seven thousandth time when I felt a sharp jab from behind. I sprang to attention. Ms. Mullins was standing in front of the classroom, her expression questioning, her gaze focused directly on me.

  “Um, yes?”

  She smiled. “You’re right, Lorelei. At least someone studied.”

  When she turned back to her slide show, I sank back and rolled my eyes in relief.

  Brooke leaned forward from the desk behind me. “Nice save.”

  “I’m going to pass out your papers now,” Ms. Mullins continued, “and based on the scores I saw last night, I’m going to present you with a prediction: I predict that at least eighty percent of the class is going to fail the test on Friday if it doesn’t study. These scores leave a lot to be desired.”

  When she got to me, she looked down in disappointment. “You can do better, Ms. McAlister.”

  I scrunched farther into my seat and took the paper. My grade wasn’t horrible. I wouldn’t be grounded for a 78. But I would get a good talking-to. Mostly from Grandma. She freaking loved A’s. But I’d had a horrid vision that day when I brushed against a senior with bulimia. Surely that counted for something.

  “Score!”

  Brooke, another A freak, must have aced the assignment. Again. I turned back to her. “I’m totally copying next time.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest it,” Ms. Mullins said, coming back through the aisle.

  With a startled gasp, I glanced up at her, unable to curb the guilt in my expression fast enough. I laughed breathily instead, trying to recover. “Oh, right. I was just kidding.”

  Her sparkling eyes crinkled with mischief before turning back to the class. “Okay, we have ten minutes. I suggest you use that time wisely.”

  She brushed past me as I studiously opened my book, going for another save. Was it too much to hope for two in one day? But the contact as Ms. Mullins walked past shifted gravity. Like a wind that blew one direction one minute, then another the next, the world tilted to the side.

  In the next instant, I heard a muffled pop. I grasped for my desk, but my fingers slipped on something warm and sticky.
My chair disappeared out from under me and I toppled back, arms searching blindly for something to grab on to. I landed hard. My spine and shoulder blades hit the tile floor with a thud a millisecond before the back of my head cracked against the hard surface. I looked around, wide eyed. The desks vanished. Students ran for cover, screaming and crying, and I found myself lying next to the prone and lifeless form of Ms. Mullins.

  THE AVALANCHE

  I realized instantly I was having a vision, but it hit like an avalanche, knocked the breath out of me, and stung my eyes like an arctic wind. I’d never had a vision so vivid, so uncontrollably real. I could feel the slickness of blood as I slid in it, struggling to get to Ms. Mullins. I could hear screams and cries of absolute terror as students rushed for cover. I could hear the splintering sound of gunshots, could smell the gunpowder and see the smoke.

  Suddenly Mr. Davis came into view. He was trying to get to us, to Ms. Mullins. He glanced around, wild eyed, and came face-to-face with the shooter a split second before the gun went off again, hitting him in the chest. It didn’t stop him. He barreled forward, determination locking his jaw. It took five bullets to bring him down. He spun toward me and sank to his knees, his tie, a brilliant red, matching the stains spreading across the front of his shirt, his face frozen in shock. My bloody hands shot to my mouth in horror.

  In all the chaos, I never got a clear view of the shooter. I saw a wrist. A hand. A gun. My line of sight stopped there, because the barrel was turning toward me and I couldn’t seem to look past it. A boy stepped into view, but he was simply the blurry backdrop for the gun, hazy and out of focus. When he pulled the trigger again, I could almost make out a sneer on his face before the bullet hit its mark right between my eyes. My head jerked back with the force as pain exploded inside me, splintering my skull and my thoughts; then everything went black.

  “Lor?”

  I heard Brooke’s voice—so casual, so unfathomably calm amid such devastation—as I fell back in my chair. My arms reached blindly until my head bounced off the concrete floor.

  “Lor! Are you okay?”

  Brooke was beside me in an instant. I’d tipped my chair back, and a few kids were laughing as I looked around in shock. I lifted my hands—turned them over, searching for blood—then glanced up at my classmates’ faces, suddenly untrusting of them all.

  “Lor, what happened?”

  Despite the pain in my head, sharp and hot, I scrambled to my feet and turned on the class, searching for the culprit. But I hadn’t seen him. Not clearly enough to pick him out.

  “Lorelei,” Ms. Mullins said. She was sitting behind her desk but rose slowly, watching me with a wary expression. Like she knew I hadn’t just randomly fallen. She glanced at the other students as well, and their faces turned from entertained to confused.

  Before I could gather myself, a wave of nausea washed over me, the smell of blood and gunpowder so vivid in my mind. I doubled over and emptied the contents of my stomach, the adrenaline rushing through my veins too much for my body to handle. I left my breakfast on Ms. Mullins’s floor. It was very unappealing.

  “Oh, man,” I heard one kid say. Nathan Ritter. He jumped up and put as much distance between himself and the acrid pool as he could, as did everyone else close by. A few students gagged. A few others groaned in disgust.

  Ms. Mullins, who wasn’t much taller than Brooke and me, took one of my arms and helped me toward the door. “Nathan, go get Mr. Gonzales to watch the class. This is his prep period. And get the custodian.”

  “Anything to get out of here,” Nathan said, jumping to do her bidding.

  After threatening the class with dire warnings of quizzes and extra homework should they misbehave, she walked me to the nurse’s office. Brooke gathered our stuff and followed. She didn’t say anything, clearly understanding what had just happened, but Ms. Mullins kept asking me questions, wanting to know if I’d had a fever that morning or if I felt dizzy.

  I stopped and looked at her. At the concern in her eyes. She’d been lying there beside me, her skin ghostly pale, her body drained of blood in seconds. A sob escaped my throat before I could stop it. She glanced around, patted my arm, and urged me forward.

  “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.”

  But it did matter. How could something so heinous happen? Who would do such a thing to Ms. Mullins? To Mr. Davis?

  Just before we went inside the nurse’s office, she turned to me, her expression grave. “It doesn’t matter,” she repeated. Then she placed her hands on either side of my face and whispered, “It doesn’t matter what you saw. Nothing is inevitable.”

  Surprise glued me to the spot. I gazed at her questioningly, my lips parting, then closing abruptly, afraid to say anything. But how did she know I’d had a vision? Ms. Mullins wasn’t a member of the Order. She didn’t even go to our church, not that every churchgoer was a member. Far from it. But how did she know about my visions?

  With a smile both grim and knowing, she patted my shoulder again and ushered me inside the nurse’s office.

  * * *

  Within seconds of my entering the nurse’s office, Jared and Cameron were outside the door, Cameron keeping vigil in that weird, predator-like way of his, and Jared watching me through the doorway. He refused to leave when the nurse told him to get back to class, taking in her every move as she took my vitals, scrutinizing her every decision, all the while keeping tabs on me from underneath his dark lashes. His gaze was so intense, it warmed me to the marrow. I’d been shaking uncontrollably, but with him near, my body seemed to calm. I hadn’t realized I was on the verge of hyperventilating until I started breathing normally again, rhythmically.

  Nurse Mackey checked me for a concussion. “I’m going to go call your grandparents. Get them over here.”

  Wonderful. I would be shipped off by nightfall.

  She gave Jared and Cameron an admonishing frown. “You kids really need to get back to class,” she said before giving us the small room. It had a desk, one cot whose edge I was sitting on, and a couple of chairs.

  After she left, Cameron asked, “What happened?”

  “I had a vision.”

  “Did anyone hurt you?”

  I blinked up at him in surprise. “In the vision?”

  He shook his head. “No, just now.”

  Confused, I said, “No. I just had a vision. Why?”

  Before he could answer, Glitch burst through the door. I jumped a solid foot. “I’m here,” he said, panting as though he’d just run with the bulls. He put his hands on his knees and swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath. “I made it,” he said between gasps for air. “I’m good. What’s going on?”

  “Lor had a vision,” Brooke said, and every face turned toward him.

  He paused. Straightened. Looked at us like we were all crazy. Then said, “A vision? That’s it?”

  “It was a bad one.” Brooke took my hand into hers and squeezed.

  “No, really. A vision? Doesn’t she have those all the time?”

  “Not like this,” I said, the memory flooding back in another nauseating wave.

  He finally started to get the picture.

  Cameron turned to Jared, his expression wary.

  Without even looking his way, Jared asked, “What?”

  Cameron bounced back and refocused on me. Someday those two would be friends. Until then, we had to put up with their squabbles. They were like first-graders fighting over the only red crayon in the box.

  “So, are you guys back to hating each other?” Glitch asked, still out of breath. How far had he run? “’Cause I’m good with that.”

  “Glitch,” Brooklyn said. She pointed a warning finger at him.

  “What?” he asked. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Cameron stepped back. “I don’t know what’s caused this imbalance, this turbulence in the air, but it’s clearly affecting you, Lorelei.”

  “What happened in your vision?” Brooke asked.
/>   After a hard swallow, I told them everything. About Ms. Mullins. About Mr. Davis. About the kid and the gun. The only things I left out were the little details like smells and the sounds. I had never had a vision quite that realistic before.

  “And Mr. Davis had on his red tie.” It was odd that I would remember that, but I did.

  “Oh,” Brooke said, surprised too. “Well, he always wears that tie on game days, so if this does happen, it won’t happen at least until Friday, right? But it could be any Friday. What was Ms. Mullins wearing? We can keep an eye out.”

  “Blood,” I said, sparing her an exasperated look.

  She cringed. “Do you remember what color she was wearing? Her shoes?”

  “Red and red. Honestly, all I remember seeing was blood. It was hard to get past.”

  “We have to find that new kid,” Cameron said.

  “Surely that doesn’t have anything to do with him, potential descendant or not,” I said. “I mean, this was a high school kid. An angry kid who wanted to take out his frustrations on the world.”

  “Not the world, Lorelei,” Cameron said, stepping closer. “You.”

  I looked around in alarm. Glitch’s head was bowed in thought. Jared’s arms were crossed over his chest. Brooke’s face was almost pale.

  “No,” I said, refusing to believe it. “He shot Ms. Mullins and Mr. Davis. He wasn’t after me.”

  “And yet he aimed the gun point-blank at your head,” Cameron said. “Shot you with a particular kind of purpose.”

  Jared fixed a hard gaze on me. “Most likely, he only shot the others because they were in the way.”

  Cameron took over again. “He was after you, Lor. The prophet. The only one, according to prophecy, who can stop the coming war before it starts.” He kneeled before me. “I promise you he wanted you dead, and I can also promise he was sent by someone else.”

  “Is it the same guy causing this disturbance you’re sensing?”

  “Possibly. Or the man who opened the gates of hell in the first place. We still believe he was the one who sent that reporter who tried to kidnap you. We have to figure out who he is.”