SHATTERED: SECRET SOCIETY OF SOULS, BOOK 1

by K. C. RILEY

  “It doesn’t happen very often, but, yes. I am.”

  “I’m not so much good with hair. But I’ve got a best friend who is.” Cassie smiled. And that was at least a start to a truce.

  “Do you think she’s mad? About last night?”

  “I doubt it. Give her a chance. Josie’s deeper than she lets on. Like I said, we’ve all got secrets.”

  As Josie repaired the damage to my hair, I wondered about her secret. Then again, I let the thought go as fast as it came. Sometimes secrets, boundaries, were a good thing. A very good thing.

  Music played from Cassie’s phone and the girls talked about everything under the sun except my psychotic breakdown at the party. And my outburst in the car. Josie continued on and on about how she never caught up with Zander. And I still couldn’t figure out how I got back to All Saints, a half a mile of my memory gone.

  “Hey, sorry about last night,” I finally said.

  “No worries,” Josie replied. And that was all there was to it. She had completely let it go.

  While Josie snipped away at my head, Cassie had outlined my eyebrows with wax strips. They hadn’t been touched up in months. What was the point?

  Cassie took way too much pleasure in ripping the strips off. They then both smiled and spun me around to face the mirror. Cassie peeked over my shoulder. “Welcome back to the land of the living. So, what do you think?”

  “I was originally thinking bald, but this works too,” I said, turning my head from side to side.

  It more than worked. Josie took my hot mess of a head and transformed it into a short bob, something similar to hers, except mine was parted down the middle in loose waves I could still tuck behind my ears. And Cassie…wow. She had taken my eyebrows from Sasquatch to hot as hell. A smile rippled over my face. “Thanks.”

  “No, problem,” they both said.

  I thought they were finished, but Cassie highlighted my brown eyes with liner. She then used some kind of miracle in a bottle that left my face rich, smooth, and dewy like hers. One dab and the dark circles under my eyes were gone.

  It was a complete upgrade from the girl that stared back in the mirror the night before. And Mom would have been proud.

  Josie’s phone alarm went off. “Breakfast. Well, got to go.” Josie scooped up her things and was out the door in a flash. “You look great. And you should join us.”

  “She loves breakfast and being on time,” Cassie said. “Cleaning up? Not so much.”

  Josie popped her head back in the door. “I heard that. Are you guys coming or not?”

  The floor was a mess. Hair was everywhere, and I still needed to get dressed. “I’ve got a lot to do. But I’ll see you guys in class?”

  “Suit yourself.” Josie was halfway down the hall. Clearly, breakfast meant a lot.

  I called down the hall. “Thanks again!”

  She yelled back. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Back inside my room, Cassie gathered her things before accidentally knocking over my meds. I had forgotten to put them away. I didn’t know why, but I was kind of embarrassed.

  She picked up the bottle, smiled, and handed it to me. “The food here is really good. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

  I did another scan of the room. “I’ve got just enough time to clean up and go grab my books from the bookstore.”

  “Yeah, we should have done that yesterday. Sorry. But remember, everything is already paid for, and if you run into any problems, just text me. Oh, and Sister Bernice is blind as a bat and can’t hear a thing, so be patient with her.”

  “Got it. I will.”

  With a warm smile, Cassie grabbed her stuff and went back to her room which was directly across from mine. I closed my door, checked the time, and got busy cleaning up the mess for room checks. Five minutes later, someone knocked. It couldn’t have been inspection already.

  Cassie’s head popped back in and she glanced over at my meds. “One last thing. You’re not crazy.” She then handed me a thick card. “You should listen to them.”

  “Listen to who?”

  “The voices in your head.”

  A touch of creepy lodged at the back of my throat. How could she have possibly known about the whispers?

  I glanced at the card in my hand. It was The Moon from the Tarot. It looked like a Van Gogh painted in dreamy swirls of a full moon, a blue midnight sky, and clouds and stars of silver light. At the forefront of the picture was a crazed man, eyes wide and delirious as he screamed and covered his ears with his hands. There were mouths or spirits or voices that spiraled in the wind by his head, voices that seemed to be eating away at what was left of his sanity. A coyote howling at the top of a hill in the shadows only added to the madness of the card.

  The whole thing sent chills down my arms. There was only so much I could handle. I tensed my stomach muscles to keep the shadows that were buried deep inside, locked away.

  Josie yelled Cassie’s name from down the hall again, shattering the tension in the air.

  “Got to go,” Cassie said.

  “Yeah.” I followed her out into the hall.

  She turned and walked backward. “Don’t forget your schedule...and don’t be late...Pinkleton will eat you alive if you are...and good luck.”

  I yelled back. “Thanks. Oh, wait, you forgot your...” Creepy card.

  Cassie and Josie were already gone.

  I closed the door, placed the card down on the desk, and picked up the med bottle. For a second, I thought about what Cassie said.

  Listen to the voices.

  They swarmed and echoed in my head as though that was exactly what they wanted me to do. But that wasn’t happening today. Like I said, I needed all the help I could get. And the whispers weren’t helping. I cleaned up my room, changed into my uniform, and swallowed a pill.

  By the time I reached the second floor of Grendel Hall, it was 9:10 a.m. I was already ten minutes late and still didn’t have all of my books. Sister Bernice, bless her heart, took way longer than anticipated.

  I held what books I had close to my chest and checked my class schedule, Room 483. That number. Again. What were the odds? I was almost to the classroom when a large window at the end of the hall blew wide open. A strong gust of wind tore the schedule out of my hand, and I reached out to grab it.

  Stop, I thought. The paper did exactly that. It just floated there, frozen in midair.

  The terror of having another nervous breakdown soared through me. Something about this school, this town, was weird, haunting. But there was no time for another psychotic lapse. I was already late.

  I snatched the haunted paper and glanced around to make sure I was still alone in the hall.

  I wasn’t.

  One of Meghan’s groupies from the night before stood in front of the bathroom with her eyes glued to me. I couldn’t remember her name and there wasn’t time to debate what she actually saw. I didn’t say anything to her, and she didn’t say anything to me. I opened the door to class and walked in.

  “Miss Maverick, you decided to join us this morning. How lucky for us.” Mr. Pinkleton folded his arms.

  In addition to the heat that erupted over my face, there was also a wave of snickering and catcalls, which was both unnerving and a relief at the same time. I attributed most of it to Josie and Cassie’s miracle makeover. At least no one was yelling psycho.

  “That’s enough, class. Miss Maverick, please see me after. In the meantime, have a seat over there.”

  Everything else was a nervous blur until I sat down and got situated.

  Meghan’s bestie came in and sat behind me. What was her name? Abby or Camilla. It was one of the two. I remembered Cassie and Josie saying something along the line of how Meghan came in a set of three. Regardless, the girl with wavy red locks sat at her desk like nothing had happened.

  Maybe nothing did.

  Pinkleton picked up where he left off, a physics lecture on displacement, velocity, and time. I wondered how that applie
d to papers that froze themselves in midair.

  My mind drifted to the tarot card Cassie had given me. And it wasn’t long before the whispers in my head started up again.

  Listen to the voices.

  The thought was broken by the strange feeling of being watched. I looked over my shoulder, and it was Blue Eyes, also known as the Jerk, staring at me.

  I wasn’t sure if it was a good stare or a bad stare. Either way, my cheeks warmed again against my will. This time for different reasons. The traitors.

  I immediately faced forward, not sure what to make of it. The image of his pouty lips almost touching mine in Zander’s bathroom was all I could see in my head. It was ridiculous. The guy was a total douche. So why was I thinking about him?

  I was about to turn and look in his direction again, but stopped myself.

  I tried focusing on Mr. Pinkleton’s notes on the board instead, but something was still off. I looked over my other shoulder. With a seething stare, Meghan was watching him watching me. She caught me looking and about burned a hole through my head with her eyes. I was finally starting to get it—the scowl look on her face in Zander’s bathroom—she was guarding her property. If they were a thing, I was toast.

  Pinkleton’s voice droned on and on as I covered my mouth while yawning. I couldn’t help it. The exhaustion of the previous day was catching up to me.

  The next part of the lecture was on Newton’s law of motion, and Pinkleton was drier than bran with milk, not to mention, redundant.

  My eyelids felt heavy.

  I tried propping my arm and hand underneath my head to keep from falling asleep. Given my track record, that was the last thing I needed to happen. I yawned again.

  I couldn’t stay awake.

  “Lizzy...Lizzy,” someone called out.

  My eyes were groggy as they came into focus. The clock on the wall read 10:23 a.m. Pinkleton’s notes were scribbled all over the board. Crap. I couldn’t believe I had slept through the entire class. Even more so, I couldn’t believe that Pinkleton had let me. And why was the room empty and dark?

  Mom’s voice trailed in from an open window.

  There was no way that was possible. I had to be dreaming.

  I got up and looked out.

  Mom’s hair, blowing gently in the wind, sparkled in the sun. There was a warm glow to her face as she stretched her hand out for me to join her. She was more beautiful than ever.

  “Hey, Dragonfly. What are you waiting for? Come on.”

  A whiff of her perfume wafted through the air, a scent of plumeria and vanilla. That was her favorite.

  My heart raced. “I’ll be right there. Just wait for me.”

  I turned toward the door, but it was gone. The classroom morphed into a round stone chamber and the sensation of being trapped with no way out overwhelmed me. The next thing I knew, I was in some kind of black ball gown. What the hell?

  I looked back out the window at Mom. The feeling of being dropped to my death from a tower strummed through my legs as the building stretched higher and higher up to the sky. There was no way to get to her.

  “The door, silly,” she said while picking daisies and frolicking on the ground. “Open the door and let yourself out.”

  “There is no door,” I said frustrated.

  She wasn’t listening to me. At least, that’s what I first thought. When I turned back to the room a door had emerged from the stone wall. Strange markings were burned into its wooden surface, and a lion’s head appeared as a knob.

  I yelled out the window, “I’m coming.” But she was gone, and so was the sun.

  Panicked, I ran and tripped over the stupid dress while trying to get to the door.

  I reached my hand out for the knob and quickly jerked back when it moved on its own. The lion’s head contorted and stretched from side to side as though waking up from a long deep sleep.

  In the silence, it stared at me with eyes red and hot as coals.

  A bright light appeared from beneath the door. Lion head or not, the door was the only way out. It was either that or jump to my death. I reached to grab the knob one more time when the floor and walls shook like they were going to crumble. I backed off.

  The light beneath the door dimmed to a cold, black mist that filled the room with whispers and secrets of things long forgotten. I didn’t care. I needed to get out and reached for the knob once more.

  This time, something moaned from the other side. “Let me out.” The room stopped shaking.

  All went quiet until the door rattled violently enough that it was clear something dark and horrible was trying to get in.

  The monster banged and banged. “Let me out...let me out.” It was close to ripping the door straight off the hinges.

  I backed up as the room swallowed me.

  The ticking of a grandfather clock filled my ears. Whispers and ticking, ticking, and whispers. The clock struck thirteen and gonged through my body like it was going to rip me apart...

  Pinkleton slammed his book on my desk. “Miss Maverick!”

  I jumped, scared shitless. A bustle of giggles, arms, bodies, and commotion rustled around me as the school bell rang, and not some spooky grandfather clock. It was the same dream I had had almost every night since my mom’s death.

  It took a moment to reorient myself back to Pinkleton’s room.

  Class was over, but I could still feel the Jerk and Meghan staring at me. There was no way I was turning around to prove it. Whatever was going on with the two of them, I wanted no part of it. I had enough to deal with and was sure I was in for one long lecture on the etiquette of first impressions from Mr. Pinkleton. He had no idea first impressions could have been a hell of a lot worse. I gathered my things and went up to his desk.

  Surprisingly, Pinkleton’s wrath wasn’t that wrathful at all. Instead of detention or a speech on staying awake in his classroom, Pinkleton talked about his wife. He lost her a year ago to cancer. I guessed he’d read my file. Maybe he wasn’t the gobbling monster Cassie had made him out to be, but rather someone still grieving, and I supposed still angry. Of course, there was the stern, “If it happens again, Miss Maverick, I will see you in detention. And by detention, I mean either you will spend the weekend washing pots and pans or scrubbing toilets. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.” And that was it.

  Catching a break was monumental, even if it meant I was late for the next class. However, once again to my surprise, Pinkleton wrote me a note.

  Maybe All Saints and the people in it weren’t as bad as I thought. I guessed time would tell.

  4

  Room 305. It sounded like someone was reading as I leaned in to listen. I opened the door to six or seven students lounging comfortably in cushioned gold-printed armchairs and a sofa in a room straight out of the Elizabethan era. The only things missing were powdered wigs and tea.

  Vases of fresh-picked flowers adorned mahogany tables while the ceiling unraveled in plastered patterns of circles and swirls that made the ceiling feel as though it were alive and breathing. Wooden panels crafted in columns and intricate floral stemmed patterns accented all the walls.

  Above a dormant fireplace was the gold and burgundy crest of a lion and wolf with their paws raised against the other, that and what looked like saints being laid to rest in sarcophagi.

  “Don’t just stand there, Miss Maverick. Come in. Come in. There’s a seat over there.” Sister Clara was still dressed in all white and stunning.

  All eyes were on me. She gave me a warm smile as I sat in a vacant armchair. Well, more like tripped into it. I caught a glimpse of the Jerk staring at me and lost my train of thought. And my balance.

  “Are you all right, Miss Maverick?” Sister Clara asked.

  “Eh heh,” I said both distracted and rattled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I forgot to hand over Pinkleton’s note and was about to get up again.

  Sister Clara gave a warm gesture as in no need. There was something abo
ut her I liked.

  “Continue, Sarah," she said.

  “For God knows that when you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil. When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”

  I turned slightly and peeked over at the Jerk from the corner of my eye.

  He looked down as he flipped his pen over and over onto his knee. He then glanced up and crap, he saw me. I whipped my head forward.

  “Christopher, pick up at verse twenty-one,” Sister Clara said.

  I sat uneasily in my chair and twiddled my thumbs.

  The scene from Zander’s bathroom—the part where my lips had almost touched the Jerk’s—played itself out over and over in my head.

  “So. What are your thoughts on obedience?” Sister Clara looked around the room for an answer. “Were Adam and Eve to blame in eating the apple? Was it entirely Eve’s fault, or was the serpent to blame?”

  “Well, it depends on the text.” With a creased brow, Sarah sat stiff in her seat. “According to the Book of Enoch, the serpent was an angel, one of the Fallen. Gadreel, I believe. In philosophical circles, some equate him to the Titan Prometheus from Greek mythology. Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. In truth, what he gave man was consciousness, the ability to choose between good and evil.”

  A study on angels and Greek mythology?

  “And yet, I wonder what the gods were so afraid of?” Sister Clara asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Have you seen what we’ve done to the planet?” the Jerk asked. “Global warming, war, famine, disease. Overpopulation. That’s what they were afraid of, humans destroying themselves and this world.” His voice was bitter, wounded, and oddly tortured.

  Sarah turned her head toward him. “Yes, but is that all we’re capable of? What about love, beauty, art, science, and culture?”