Rage in Pain Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 2

by Kris Johnston

  “Someone with more power than any of us had to have done it,” Devon said. “His mother, perhaps?”

  Nicole shook her head and laughed sardonically. “Prudence is not as powerful as she'd have you believe.”

  I bristled at her words. “With all due respect ma’am, she is quite powerful. I only know that because of the times I've spent with her undergoing ‘magic sessions.’ The woman is deranged. She has plenty of power.”

  Nicole’s gaze narrowed on me. “What are you saying? Magic sessions?”

  I suppressed another shiver as I explained how Prudence confronted me with the knowledge that she knew I was not Parker, and how she forced me, on occasion, to try to wield the power within Parker’s body. I told them how she'd used electric shock to punish me for my failures, leaving out my reaction to it. I also explained how, the last time we'd had a session, she had levitated me into the air for the several seconds before allowing me to drop to the floor. My back still ached from hitting the hard wooden floor that day.

  “Oh my goddess,” Belle breathed. “She's completely mad.”

  “Wrong,” Nicole corrected. “She's dangerous. She knows exactly what she's doing. She's manipulating Jimmy with pain and fear, making sure she can keep him in her control.” She turned to me and reached out a hand across the table.

  I reached out and grasped it, and almost sighed. Everything about this woman was soothing. Calm. Comforting. She was the antithesis of Prudence.

  “Listen to me, Jimmy,” she urged. “You are in grave danger with Prudence Evans. Even if you find a way to connect with the magic in your new body, you must not let her know. Not ever. I believe she wants Parker’s magic for herself and will stop at nothing to obtain it.” She gave my hand a firm squeeze before lowering her voice. “Once she knows you can access that magic, she'll steal it from you and leave you for dead. Mark my words.”

  The others stared at Nicole as I swallowed hard, digesting her words.

  “I haven't been able to access it, not at all. So… I'm safe, right?”

  She stared at me. Hard. Her keen eyes seemed to pierce my very soul as she inspected what was beneath my exterior. Then her eyebrows raised, as if gaining insight, or understanding. Her next words were heavy with foreboding.

  “Jimmy. Parker was able to connect to you from beyond the veil.”

  “Oh no….” Cindy whispered, realizing the hidden meaning in Nicole’s statement.

  “The mirror!” Jess exclaimed softly.

  I glanced at them, not understanding the warning signals firing off in my brain as another shiver came, this time hard enough so that I could not hide it.

  “What?” I asked in confusion.

  “The mirror,” Devon explained, looking like she was going to be sick. “You used the mirror. A spelled mirror.” She shook her head, lowering it into her hands.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Jimmy,” Nicole said softly, “I was wrong. You aren’t connected spiritually with Parker. You are, however, now connected to his magic. The mirror is spelled, it could be a catalyst for any dormant magic to come to life.”

  “No,” I said in disbelief. “I would feel it, wouldn't I?”

  “Do you feel different?” She asked.

  “No…?” I wavered as another buzz hit me with a force that shook my entire body almost out of the chair. An intense, heated pressure began to build and build within my stomach as I fought the urge to throw up. Nicole took immediate action.

  “Light the candles again!” Nicole called out as my body broke into a thick sweat and began to gasp in excruciating discomfort. The females all began moving immediately as Nicole continued to call out orders. “Grab a bucket from the storeroom! Get some towels too! And my bag of crystals! Someone brew the tea! The weeping willow tea mixture, if you please!” She suddenly stood before me feeling my forehead and peering into my eyes. I tried to focus, but she blurred away.

  “You're going to be very sick for the next few hours, Jimmy,” she said soothingly, “It’s all perfectly natural, so please don’t worry. But we're going to help you through it.” She turned away and called out “We need a blanket too! And Jess, grab the cot!”

  I trembled with hot, fiery chills that broke out up and down my body. My teeth chattered and I couldn't control the shakes that made me spasm like a fish out of water.

  “Wh- what's-happ-en-ing?” I managed to ask.

  “You're accessing the power, my dear,” Nicole said. “You're lucky it's happening here instead of with Prudence! She'd steal it and kill you, no question about it.”

  I trembled harder in the seat as the girls rushed in and out of the meeting chamber, their arms full of the requested supplies.

  “But- why… why is it- making me- so sick?” I mumbled.

  “Your soul is opening itself to the magic. It is accepting it, so you can be at one with your physical body. It happens when a witch or warlock comes of age, usually around the age of twelve.”

  Someone (Nicole? Devon?), helped me to stand and moved me around until I was lying on a firm cot with a fluffy pillow behind my head and a dark blue afghan thrown over my body. I hurt everywhere and was so confused I couldn't understand anything.

  I fought against the nausea that hit me but in the end it was stronger than I. I was thankful for the bucket held by Nicole as I vomited up the lunch I'd had earlier.

  “You brought the pocket goddess didn't you, Jimmy?” Devon murmured. Hearing the sound of my true name being spoken sparked a feeling of peace within me, despite the sudden sickness.

  I nodded tiredly.

  “Hold onto it,” she encouraged.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, grasping at the smoothness of the little figure and finding comfort.

  A cup of bitterly sweet tea was soon held to my lips and I was thankful for the taste. Regurgitated cafeteria spaghetti was not delicious the second time around. But the tea immediately soothed my stomach and rid my mouth of the vomit flavor, and for that I was thankful.

  The pocket goddess soon grew warm in my hand, and relaxation spread throughout my body. I passed back and forth from consciousness to darkness. Cool hands wiped away the sweat of my brow. Whispered words of comfort were spoken to my ears. I had never before been so sick, but I also had never before been so cared for. My heart expanded for these women as they did their best to comfort me.

  I rested easily, feeling loved by someone other than Roz, for the first time in my entire life.

  “Yes, sleep now,” Nicole whispered to me as I lost total consciousness once again. “When you awaken, I will teach you how to suppress your new power. Your life will depend on it.”

  ***

  She was right. My life did depend on it. Once I had awakened, I felt refreshed and strong- immeasurably strong- and I discovered honing into Parker’s power meant I could now do some incredible feats, just by willing them to happen.

  Spooky? Yes.

  Awesome as hell? Absolutely!

  With Nicole and The Pastels guiding me, I quickly mastered the basics of this insane power. I learned that I could make objects float around the room simply by thinking it, and I could place them where I wanted them with a flick of my wrist. I learned how to light candles simply by blowing on the wicks. I learned I could bring dead plants back to life, which made Cindy lose her mind, because she said only someone with the highest levels of natural witchcraft power could accomplish that.

  “Parker had the power of necromancy, remember?” Devon said. “I honestly didn't expect Jimmy to be able to tap into that, though.”

  “Bringing dead plants back to life is not the same as people,” Nicole admonished before looking sternly at me. “That is a much darker power, one we hope you do not tap into!”

  I nodded, heeding her warning.

  Soon after, Nicole taught me that I could diffuse this power within me by concentrating on building an imaginary wall within my mind. By visualizing it going up, one brick at a time and sealing in my magic, I could keep an
yone (namely Prudence), from seeing the energy that now flowed from my body.

  “So that must've been how she knew I wasn't Parker,” I surmised. “She saw my aura.”

  “Not exactly,” Nicole said. “Having the vision of aura does not interest the Dark. For them, they automatically recognize their own kind. This type of vision isn't one of their gifts. Prudence wouldn't have even thought of your aura, especially if you were giving her a story of amnesia. She would have bought that for a while, but eventually she would've known something else had happened to her son.”

  Devon agreed. “Right. Especially if you weren't behaving in the same way as Parker.”

  “Yeah,” Erica added. “You know, all evil and junk.”

  I grimaced. “Parker sure was a piece of work, wasn't he?”

  “Is,” Cindy corrected. “If he's behind the veil, he's not truly gone. It will only be a matter of time before he finds his way back.” She looked pointedly at me.

  Back? Parker could come back? Well, I suppose so. I had been dead for decades and yet here I was, breathing, fully alive. But... If Parker could come back, what did that mean for me? If he came back, he would certainly take his body back. Would I go back to being a ghost? A spirit?

  No. NO. I couldn't let go of life so easily, not that I'd been given this second chance at it. I had stupidly thrown away my life the first time I’d lived. I wasn't about to do it again.

  I looked at the ladies before me. “We're going to have to find out everything we can about keeping him behind the veil.”

  Chapter 20

  ~Roz~

  The school days passed swiftly, their combined hours and over-the-top endless homework making for one big blur of equations and theories that I was thankful for. Schoolwork had never been my favorite anything, but if it kept me from obsessing over Parker and my newly-strained relationship with Odie, then I was all for it. At this point, anything that presented itself as a distraction from real life was a bonus.

  I hadn't spoken with my best friend since she'd expressed her belief in Parker. I was so mad at her for being duped by his story, that I’d given her the cold shoulder. That next day, she sat in her usual place across from me at lunch, but I didn't acknowledge her.

  I wasn't immune to the hurt in her face, and it certainly broke my heart to ignore my best friend, but she had sided with my enemy and the betrayal was too deep to brush aside. Halfway through lunch, she moved from our table and sat with Will.

  I couldn't fault her for that. I was acting like a jerk. But, still.

  The Pastels remained oddly passive about the whole ordeal, but I would catch them giving me glances here and there. A few times, Devon acted like she had something important to say, only to stop herself and look away. I was positive she wanted to talk to me about the Odie situation, but as I later discovered, that was not the case.

  Mitch was true to his word, and formulated a fitness plan for me. He had rummaged around in the garage and the backyard shed for that entire week until he felt like he could create the perfect home gym for me.

  For us.

  Apparently, he was also going to participate in my at-home fitness regimen, and I appreciated that. I figured the more who was around to guide me, the less likely I'd hurt myself.

  Elizabeth Tate was constantly up Parker’s butt at school. He could never seem to get a free moment away from her. If I didn't hate the guy so much, I'd almost feel bad for the level of cling he had to endure.

  That Thursday during lunch, he got his tray and very obviously was making his way to sit with me and The Pastels. I had stiffened my shoulders, preparing myself for his approach. Cindy noticed him coming, and gave him an almost imperceptible nod, which puzzled me.

  Just as it appeared I wasn't going to get out of a confrontation with him, good ol’ Elizabeth showed up and intervened. She slithered herself over his body as he stood awkwardly with the tray, his eyes on me. I squirmed beneath his stare and focused on my food, but not before catching Erica’s mumbled, “Crap! We need to get rid of her!”

  After several uncomfortable moments of Parker staring at me with his food tray in hand and Elizabeth adhering her body to his, Devon gave Parker a hard look and shook her head.

  Shoulders sagging, he turned away and took a seat elsewhere.

  The entire sequence of events left me confounded for a few reasons. Why had Cindy nodded at him, as if encouraging him to come and sit with us? Like she was giving him the ‘all-clear?’ Why did Erica say we had to get rid of Elizabeth once she arrived? Why did Devon shake her head at him once the cold beauty had attached herself to Parker?

  And why, why, did the look in his dejected eyes, as he turned away from our table, remind me so very much of Jimmy?

  ***

  By Friday evening, I was ready.

  Mitch had the garage all set up for me, and I was one step closer to releasing my pent-up anger.

  “Okay, kiddo,” he said as he led me down the hall, through the front yard and out into the cooling night air. “As you know, the garage isn't attached to the house so you'll have to come in and out this way,” He walked to the big garage door and stopped there.

  He shuffled his feet somewhat awkwardly. It took me a moment to realize he was nervous about this. Mitch? Nervous? Not possible.

  He cleared his throat. “You can see I finally put up the parking cover,” he pointed to the aluminum roof which stood off to the side of the house. His car and Bonnie’s van were both snuggly parked beneath. “I had that cover for years but never needed it until now!” He grinned. “Being a hoarder can actually be a good thing!”

  I chuckled. “You are so not a hoarder.”

  “Not me,” he agreed. “Bonnie! Have you seen the shed in the back?”

  I shook my head and raised my eyebrows.

  “Ah, well let's just say she has things out there neither of us knew we owned.” He clapped his hands together and his grin stretched further. “Are you ready to see it?” He asked.

  I nodded. “I'm ready!”

  He bent down and clasped the garage door handle, then slowly raised it.

  I stared in awe.

  Everything was incredible! There was no way this was the same garage I had found a concrete slab in months ago! That garage had been filled with art supplies, tools, empty paint cans, and junk, and sometimes Bonnie’s van (when there was space for it). This garage was its exact opposite.

  The interior had been freshly painted a nice, clean grey with stripes of black and red. A large punching bag hung in the far most left corner. An old rowing machine stood beside it. Across from those devices were weights, bars, a bench, and two old, huge mirrors which stood on the floor and leaned against the wall. I noticed one had a small crack running through it and smiled. The back of the garage held a small, white mini-fridge which was filled with water bottles. A tall, wooden counter stood above it, and upon it sat an old-school boom box and CD collection.

  “I used what we had, and tried to make it how I thought you might like it. And, of course, Bonnie added her touches to it, too. She painted.”

  I nodded and made every attempt at stopping the tears that welled up.

  “Nope! None of that!” He exclaimed when he saw my watery eyes. “You and Bonnie are killing me lately with the waterworks!”

  I grimaced and took a breath before saying jokingly, “Maybe it's our girl hormones.”

  He blanched, horrified. “That kind of talk is worse than the tears!”

  I chuckled. “Why do guys get so weird when a female shows emotion?”

  “We are not having this talk.”

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I hid a secret grin, enjoying the moment of banter that had erased the tears from my eyes.

  “So, what do you think?” He asked.

  I stood in the center of the garage and turned around, taking it all in.

  “It's perfect!” I breathed, trying to show my thankfulness in those two little words.

  “Sweet!” He exclaimed. “When do
you want to get started?”

  I smiled back at him and looked down at my attire. I was dressed in an old pair of leggings and a loose, baggy t-shirt.

  “How about right now?”

  He nodded. “There's the enthusiasm I was looking for!”

  Chapter 21

  ~Roz~

  My enthusiasm lasted all of five minutes.

  Within seconds of my work-out, I realized I was far more out of shape than I had thought. Mitch had me begin doing some light exercises, much like the stretching we typically did in PE. Those exercises were fine and I handled them easily, but when he declared me ready to take on the rowing machine, I was in for it.

  The sounds of an old hair band named White Snake played loudly and pumped me up, so I thought I was ready for the beast.

  I wasn't.

  After giving me a brief instruction, Mitch had me get acquainted with the awful torture device. My arms and thighs burned instantly. I mean, instantly. I managed five reps on the dumb thing before I stopped.

  Not willing to admit to my complete and utter weakness, or show how winded I was, I said, “I don't think I'm doing this right. Can you show me again?”

  He frowned. “It's designed to use your body weight for tension. When you pull back on the handles, and bring them together again, it moves your body back and forth. I'm watching, Roz. You're doing it correctly.”

  I nodded and shrugged. “Something feels off, that's all.”

  He squinted his eyes and said, “Do another rep. Slowly.”

  I did. Slowly. The slow speed was actually more difficult to control than going faster.

  Oh my god I hate this thing. Why did I want to be in shape again?

  Mitch knelt down and inspected the device in different places before saying, “OK hold it right there.”

  I stopped in mid-motion, my arms shaking with the exertion.

  Oh no! This sucks! I can't do this!