Holly pulled the emergency procedures packet out of the folder and paged through it. Routines for fire drills had been revised and new protocols for evacuations and lockdowns had been added. Every classroom would receive a safety backpack for recesses and field trips. All staff members would have roles whether it be supervising their class, standing at checkpoints, or communicating with emergency personnel.
As she read through the information, Holly wondered what had prompted this new safety effort. Her town was small and quiet, a mere speck on the Virginian map. The school only had about two hundred students and was surrounded mostly by farms. They’d never had any concern about emergency preparedness before.
“You’ll find a packet about our school’s emergency procedures in your folders.” Mrs. Veraca held up the stapled papers Holly already had out on the table. “We have many reasons for developing this plan; however, this is our number one reason.”
The principal held up a wanted poster with a blond-haired male pictured in the center of it. He had a mustache and scraggly beard, which surrounded a set of thin lips. Small, dark eyes stared out at the faculty, and a jagged scar sliced through his left eyebrow. A tingle crept along Holly’s spine. If creepy had a face, this would be the one.
“This is Alan Hendrick. He is wanted for sexual assault on children.” Mrs. Veraca paused as the faculty gasped simultaneously. “It is disturbing, I agree, but we must be level-headed about this. We are in charge of the safety of two hundred twenty-one students Monday through Friday, 8:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. In those hours, every single student needs to feel safe in this learning environment.”
“Where was this jerk last seen?” the physical education teacher, Mr. Jarmon, asked.
“Unfortunately, not far from our school grounds.” Another gasp resounded from the faculty and staff. “We are lucky to have the police station down the street from our location, but we need to be aware and alert. The doors of the building will be locked at all times. You will receive a key from the office today so you can get in and out, but during school hours, we’re locked tight, people.”
Mrs. Veraca spoke calmly, but Holly caught the slight shake of the principal’s hand as she held the wanted poster. “If you have recess duty, keep a sharp eye for any adult that does not belong on the premises. Report any strange activity to the office immediately.” She picked up a walkie-talkie from the cafeteria table. “When you go outside, take one of these so you can contact the office. Also take the red backpack you will find in your classroom. It has band-aids, ice packs, class lists, emergency numbers, and the like.” She set the walkie-talkie down.
“Should we do a program or something with the kids about stranger danger?” one of the lower grade teachers asked.
Mrs. Veraca nodded. “Already organized. The police are sending two officers with education training to speak to the children. Parents have also been notified that this scum could be lurking around the neighborhood.”
The principal lowered the wanted poster, and a silence settled over the faculty and staff. Holly could hear the dripping faucet in the kitchen behind her, but other than that, the cafeteria was as quiet as a tomb. The teacher sitting next to her shuddered.
“I know this is a terrible topic to start our school year together, but we have to be informed so we can protect the children and ourselves. We won’t, however, let it get in our way of having a wonderful one hundred eighty days with our students. Right?” Mrs. Veraca raised worried brown eyes to the group.
Leora Pinni, the music teacher, whom Holly had gone to several concerts with last year, stood. “No, Mrs. V, we won’t.” She turned to the rest of the teachers and staff. “Tomorrow, we’ll greet the little ones with smiles on our faces, and everything will be fine.” She caught Holly’s eye as if to say Are you with me or what?
Leora had called her over the summer extending invitations for lunch or another concert, but Holly had let the answering machine take the messages. She never called back. She’d put her life on hold this summer with Keane around. Seeing Leora now, however, she wanted to fix that friendship.
“I’m with you, Leora,” she said as she stood. “We can be careful and still have a great year.”
“Rockin’. A rockin’ year,” Leora added with a grin.
Slowly, the rest of the faculty and staff stood to pledge their support. The unity hit Holly square in the chest, and she was happy to have such wonderful colleagues. At least some people wanted to be around her. Not like Keane who apparently had decided she was a leper.
After the faculty meeting, the teachers were allowed to go to their classrooms to prepare for the children coming the next day. Holly set up bulletin boards, organized the classroom library, unpacked her writing and math centers, and cleaned a summer’s worth of cobwebs from the window ledge. She positioned and repositioned desks until she had achieved the epitome of Feng Shui in a learning environment. All she needed now was some pre-adolescent bodies squirming in the seats.
“Holly?” Leora stood in the doorway of the classroom.
“Hey,” Holly said. “C’mon in.”
Leora crossed the threshold and sat atop a student desk. Her long, purple, gypsy skirt hung over the edge of the desk and above her silver flip-flops. A shimmery silver scarf was braided into Leora’s thick, black hair, and monstrous silver hoops clung to her earlobes. Metal bangles clanged around on her wrists while a peace sign charm dangled from a leather cord around her neck. The sleeveless purple and silver tie-dyed top she wore completed the Woodstock-esque, traveling caravan, hey-I-can-play-the-guitar look Leora always had going.
Holly, on the other hand, had on a flowered sheath dress with black flats and a crocheted, short-sleeved sweater. Small diamond studs were the only jewelry she’d worn. She’d tamed her wild red mane into a loose ponytail that spilled curls down her back.
Leora’s persona screamed, “Be creative!
Holly’s whispered, “Be organized.” And yet, the two had bonded last year over common music interests and tales of woe concerning maintaining loads of unruly hair.
“You ready for tomorrow?” Leora asked.
“Yep. You?”
Leora nodded. “Still looking for the gun and bulletproof vest I think should be in the red safety backpacks, but I guess the school department doesn’t have enough funds for that.”
“That whole thing is freaking me out a little.” Holly leaned a knee on one of the student chairs.
“No doubt. I think we should have around-the-clock police protection of the tall and handsome variety.”
Why did the words tall and handsome make Keane pop into Holly’s head? And hadn’t he mentioned he’d been a security guard as one of his many inconspicuous nighttime jobs? She got a wonderful image of him standing outside her classroom door, arms folded across his chest, eyes searching for shady characters. Would he protect her?
“Either that or we’ll have to start taking kickboxing classes or something,” Holly said. “So we can kick some ass if we have to.”
Leora shrugged. “Anyway, I have your class second period. Thought I’d start with a Native American drum circle activity.”
“That sounds like fun.” Holly placed homework assignment pads on each of the student desks.
“Went to one this summer. Wound up talking to the guy running it. He gave me a few tips for conducting one with children. Figure fifth graders might be able to handle it. We’ll see.”
“It’s all an experiment, isn’t it? You never know what they’re going to like.” Holly circulated with pencils now, but she could feel Leora’s gaze on her.
“You got my messages, right?” Leora picked at a string on her skirt.
“I did, but I was super busy this summer. I didn’t have a minute to spare, and I was up at my parents’ beach house, too.” Suddenly, Holly needed a drink. Her mouth was sandpapery. She hated lying to someone who she could see herself calling a friend.
“I thought maybe you were mad at me,” Leora said.
“No, of course not. J
ust busy. I’m sorry you got the wrong idea.” Holly dropped the last pencil on the desk beside Leora.
“So we could make some plans?” Leora slid off the desk. “I’ve got tickets to this hot band I checked out in July. You’re going to love them. Firecracker is their name. All males. Cute males that can wail on guitars and drums as if they were born to do so. I grew up with the drummer. We used to put on shows for our neighborhood as kids. You’ll come, right?”
“Umm…” Holly stalled while her mind shuffled through plausible excuses for not going.
“You don’t want to go? See, you are mad at me. How come? What did I do? I thought we were having fun hanging out.” Leora’s dark eyes showed how hurt she was.
“You didn’t do anything, Leora, and I want to go. When?”
Leora’s face brightened. “Really? You’re not just saying you’ll go to shut me up, are you?”
“Of course I am.” Holly managed a laugh. “I can’t take how pathetic you are right now, so I’ll go if it’ll return your dignity.”
“Shut up, Brimmer.” Leora gave her a little shove. “You’ll thank me when you see how gorgeous these band guys are.” She rubbed her hands together and opened her eyes wide. “The concert is next week. Want me to pick you up?”
“No,” Holly said too quickly. “Umm, I’ll meet you there. You don’t want to drive all the way out to my farmhouse.” She wrinkled up her nose as if that option was so inconvenient.
“I don’t mind. Got a new car this summer too, which you would know if you hadn’t completely ignored my existence.” She pointed a finger at Holly as if she were scolding her.
Holly wondered if Leora knew what it was like to be completely ignored. Leora appeared to have a pretty active social life. She went out, saw people, did things. Living with Keane this summer—these past two weeks in particular—gave Holly got a first-rate education in being ignored. It sucked.
Especially after that damn kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
Another demon body rested at Keane’s feet in Holly’s backyard. A seventh night and the killing had been easy yet again. A drug-dealing kingpin demon this time. Single jab with a dagger to the chest, and the rogue was no more. One less supernatural jerk to dirty the streets. One more cadaver’s energy to keep Holly alive.
With a glance to the shovel she had left leaning against the shed, he set the body on fire instead. Since he wasn’t talking to Holly anymore, he didn’t need to live by her rules. Forget burying the bodies. It didn’t make sense anyway. They weren’t human.
As the fire died and the demon corpse was reduced to ash, Keane put the shovel away in the shed. On his way out, the door almost came off completely. After rummaging around in the few tools Holly owned, he found a screwdriver and tightened the hinge screws. A little grease in the hinge itself got rid of the lonesome squeak the door made every time it opened or closed. Enough moonlight spilled into the backyard to make this work possible, and he enjoyed feeling useful.
He was good at something besides killing demons. He had learned so much in his time on the planet and could fix absolutely anything from shed doors to motorcycles. He knew his way around the globe like no one else possibly could. He’d read all the science journals he could get his hands on and loved seeing the technology man had created for himself through the ages. He wasn’t sure where it would all lead, but there was great potential in the human mind. Part of him looked forward to being around to see the next big step humans would make.
Another part of him, however, just wanted to focus on Holly. He wanted to pay her back for giving him a room in her house. For taking him on that ride to the beach. For not flipping out that he’d met her parents.
For kissing a warmth into his body in the water four weeks ago.
That kiss replayed itself over and over in his mind. It tortured him, bringing both pleasure and pain. On the one hand, being that close to Holly—having his lips pressed against hers—had made him feel more human than he’d felt in centuries. On the other hand, the moment that dog interrupted with its barking, he knew he was far from human and not at all what she needed. When the dog had growled and snapped at him, he knew he had to forget any crazy notions of keeping Holly for himself.
Keane made sure the shed door shut properly after his quick repair. He headed up the back porch stairs and went inside. The TV was still on so he paused in the kitchen for a moment. He didn’t hear Holly stirring, and when he continued on silent feet into the living room, he realized why he hadn’t heard her. She was asleep on the couch, papers strewn about on the coffee table, books open on the cushions beside her, and a purple pen stuck into the sloppy bun she’d forced her hair into.
She looked absolutely amazing. He hadn’t truly seen her in a month, and now, in the dim light of a single lamp, he took his fill of admiring her. Her breath came in a steady rhythm in and out. Pure music to his ears. Stray copper curls framed her face, and her full lips whispered his name in his imagination. He longed for her to wake and pull him down to her. To say she wanted him and only him.
It should have been easier forgetting her since school started. She was at work from 7:45 a.m. to about 3:30 p.m. every day, but during those hours, Keane was trapped inside the house or on the porch out of the sun. He roamed from room to room wondering if today would be the day he was released from Holly. When her key finally jingled in the lock after school, he skittered off to his bedroom, afraid that if he actually had to speak to her, he’d end up doing more with his lips than talking.
She appeared to be keeping herself separated from him as well. She usually stopped in the kitchen after coming home, got a snack, then spent an hour or so doing schoolwork. The weather was nice still, and sometimes she changed into shorts and a T-shirt and went running outside. Keane would have loved to go with her.
At night, all he wanted to do was slip under the quilts of her bed and be with her. Hold her until morning came, then hold her some more. Make love to her until they both were too tired to do anything else but cuddle close. Instead, he forced himself to the post office to spend the nighttime hours sorting mail. When his shift ended, he hopped on his bike and rode around on the deserted roads until the horizon got that pink sunrise glow. Every seventh night, he jumped to his kill and wasted a demon so Holly’s life could continue. So she would get closer to doing her something important and set him free to find his next save.
He worried incessantly about the day he would have to move on. How would he ever be able to forget Holly? How long would his damned life exist? Had the witch meant for him to be immortal? If so, that made the curse even crueler. To live forever in a never-ending cycle of saving and killing was enough to drive a man mad.
Maybe he was already mad. Wanting Holly as much as he did was insanity.
No, you’re not mad. You’re managing.
Looking at Holly now, he pushed some of her papers aside and sat on the end of the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. Holly had been back to work for a while now, and he wondered if she enjoyed her new students. How many did she have? What were they like? What was she teaching them? He cast a glance to the papers and read the first paragraph on one of them.
My name is Emma. I have one younger brother and older twin sisters. That leaves me in the middle. Some kids don’t like the middle, but I don’t mind it. My dad is a middle child too. Once a month, he takes me out for a special dinner, just the two of us, so I don’t “get lost in the shuffle” as he says. We usually go for pizza, but sometimes it’s Chinese food. I don’t care what we eat. I just like being with my dad. He’s a fireman and the greatest.
The essay went on to describe the rest of Emma’s family, but she always went back to saying how wonderful her father was. It made Keane’s chest ache that he’d never have a daughter or a son who thought he was wonderful. That he’d never have a family he could call his own.
He shuffled through some of the other essays, and every one of them talked about family. Not all
of them were happy essays, but they all illustrated the importance of human interaction. The importance of not being alone on this planet.
He put the essays down and heaved in a huge breath. He got up meaning to head toward his bedroom, but a picture on the coffee table caught his attention. He sifted it out and turned it around so he could stare at the face on what he soon realized was a wanted poster.
Alan Hendrick. Caucasian male. Approximately 40 years of age. Height: 5’8” Weight: 165 lbs. Eye color: Brown. Hair color: Blond. Identifying marks: Scar through left eyebrow. Wanted for molestation, kidnapping, and assault.
The poster provided information on where Hendrick had last been spotted and contact numbers should he be in the vicinity again. Keane did not like that he’d found this among Holly’s school things. Did not like that someone such as this might be anywhere near her and her students. He took a good long look at Hendrick’s face, committed it to memory. Another seventh night would come a-knocking soon enough. If justice existed in the world, this Hendrick would be a demon and Keane would be compelled to find him on night seven.
He went to the bathroom across from his bedroom. He cleaned his dagger and hopped in the shower to wash away what he’d done tonight. Never could get rid of the stain of killing even if only demons. It left marks on the soul.
In his bedroom, he dressed and considered his options. It was only 1:30 a.m. and he didn’t have to work. He could stay in the bedroom, but he’d spent most of the day cooped up in the house. He could watch some TV, but he’d probably wake Holly if he did that. He could go out on his bike and cruise around until morning forced him to come back. The last choice seemed the best, so he grabbed his leather jacket and made his way into the living room.
Holly was still asleep, and he paused to study her once again. He had the urge to rouse her and ask if she wanted to go for a ride with him, but that would be stupid. Instead, he tiptoed past the couch and opened the front door.
“Don’t touch me!”
Keane whipped around at the sound of Holly’s shout. He leaned over the back of the couch, but her eyes were still closed. She tossed and turned in her slumber, flailed out an arm, and Keane knew another nightmare plagued her. They were worse just after he’d killed a demon, as if the energy were too powerful right away so it had to unleash itself in the form of nightmares.
Abra Cadaver Page 9