A Shade of Innocence (The Illuminati Book 1)

by Jane West

  At this point, I'd take whatever phone I could get, providing it was cheap. Every penny had to be accounted for, which reminded me, I needed to get the landlord's number.

  Sara sucked at paying rent. I needed to make sure she didn't go half-cocked like last time, losing our money to a stupid physic. They were all cons. Every last one!

  I pushed through the metal doors and stepped out under the awning at the main entrance. I stopped. From zero to sixty, my heart sank to an all-time low. It was as if the heavens had rained down its wrath upon us miserable souls. Hard sheets of rain poured like a monsoon. An unexpected chill washed over me. The temperature had shifted into a frosty bite, even more so than earlier at lunch.

  I donned my dried-out hoodie. Good grief! I frowned staring at my bike. I'd tied it to the railing this morning and now it was getting pounded. I could suck it up, go home or wait out the rain. I kept rocking on my heels, chewing my chapped lips. “Screw it!” In a fury, I shouldered my book bag, tossing the hoodie over my head and darted for my bike.

  Just when I was about to straddle the bike, from the corner of my eyes, I caught a dark shadow. My head jerked up as my eyes spotted a black Corvette encroaching. I wiped the streaming water from my eyes, doing a double take. I knew that sports car anywhere. I eyed the vehicle as it came to a slow roll.

  My mind possessed a flurry of worries. Did the driver realize who I was? He should remember me. After all, he left me for the buzzards.

  I watched, not moving a muscle as the black car came to a halt. Slowly the tinted window slid down, revealing the mysterious driver.

  When our eyes collided, my breath stalled. I couldn't believe it. It was the new dude!

  “Jump in!” He leaned over the passenger's side. “I'll give you a ride home.” He shouted over the roaring thunder. I stood there biting my bottom lip, indecisive.

  To be honest, I did value my toes.

  “Come on!” he bellowed. “You're going to drown out here.” He was convincing.

  “My bike, I can't leave it.” I yelled back over the rain.

  “No problem! I'll put it in the trunk.” Before I could protest, he'd slid out of his car and reached my side before I batted my eyes. Geez, he moved fast.

  “My bike won't fit,” I argued, water gushing down my face.

  There was a hint of humor behind his glint. “I got it!” His pearly smile set waves of chills through me, the good kind.

  “Okay, I guess.” I handed my bike to him, still not sure if I should trust him.

  He tossed his hoodie to me, shouting. “Get in the car! It's warm.” He leaned over me and opened the door. I only nodded and jumped inside.

  As soon as I settled in the seat, a blast of heat hit my face. “Ah,” I moaned. I held my fingers to the warm air, letting it work its magic. I wiggled my fingers, thinking this was heaven.

  Only a few seconds later, Bane slipped into the driver's side, rain dripping off his dark curls. Once his door closed, the cab filled with that same woodsy aroma that seemed to follow him.

  Suddenly I became aware of how tight we were inside the cab. His massive shoulders filled the small space. Pushed against his arm, I stiffened, not sure what to do. I couldn't recall a time that I'd ever been this awkward with a boy. It sucked being socially inept.

  Most girls my age had at least kissed a boy. Not me, I was the girl who had a sign glued to the forehead that read, “Despicable.”

  He raked his fingers through his curls and tossed a smile at me.

  I drew in a sharp breath, gluing my eyes to the side window and biting down on my bottom lip. Talk about an igniting spark. I'd never felt this way with Logan. Of course, I'd never been up in his grill either. This was unfounded territory for me. I held my breath, hoping not to say or do something stupid.

  I slipped a glance at him. The five-o'clock shadow lining his jaw made him appear older. I rolled my eyes to myself, drawing my knees to my chest and peered through my side window. I was wasting my time ogling the boy. It was like looking at candy behind a glass case. You could look all you wanted, but you could never touch it. I slipped another quick glance. Rich boys and poor girls never meshed well.

  Judging by the fancy car and his rock star walk, a blind, deaf-mute could see the silver spoon in his mouth. No high school kid drove a brand new Corvette working at McDonald's unless his daddy owned the franchise. Hands down, this dude's parents were loaded.

  Just the same, boys with rich parents didn't hang out with girls of less fortune. I was the undesirable, poor girl on the wrong side of the tracks. Girls like me sat on the sidelines, going unseen by the popular boys, unless the girls were desperate for attention.

  Come to think about it, why was he offering me a ride? Did he think I'd be an easy lay?

  On second thought, I seriously doubted he'd trouble himself after today. Once he realized I wasn't one of his groupies, he'd move on to the next. Then I wouldn't have to speak to him ever again. I figured he'd be too preoccupied chasing every skirt in school. I figured this dude broke hearts for kicks.

  After all, just how nice could he actually be? He'd left me on the side of the road, dying for all he knew.

  Jarred from my angry thoughts, the dude had the nerve to compliment me, “You look all nice and toasty.” His eyes wolfed over me.

  “I'm good. Thank you.” I tossed him a sugarcane smile. “My address is—”

  He cut me off.

  “I know your address, Princess.” His blues churned with amusement.

  Startled, I looked at him with a raised brow. “How do you know?”

  An impish grin colored his face. “Tangi's small. Everyone knows everyone.”

  “Yeah, but you're new, right?”

  “Your point?” There was a challenge in his voice.

  “I'm just saying it's strange that you know where I live, when you don't even know my name.”

  He laughed to himself. “Like I said, the town is small.” Humor radiated in his blues.

  “You know, being a peeping-Tom can be a hazardous hobby.”

  “Whoa, Princess! I never said I peek. I'm usually invited.” There went the self-entitled prick's words of wisdom.

  “I like your car.” I smiled, quickly shifting the subject. “Not too many folks in these parts drive a brand-new Corvette.”

  “You think?” One dark brow perked.

  “Yeah, actually I do. A car just like this one nearly ended my life a few weeks ago. I was practically the bug splattered on the window shield.”

  “I'm terribly sorry to hear of your misfortune.”

  “You should be!” I twisted in my seat, my heated gaze pointed straight at him.

  His dark brows knitted. “Come again?”

  That douchebag didn't remember. “You were the driver who left me stranded and injured, asshat!”

  “I believe I'd remember if I was in an accident.”

  Liar! I thought.

  “Maybe you have selective amnesia!”

  He coughed out a curt laugh. “My memory is excellent. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone else.”

  “Deny all you want but there are not many Corvettes with a license tag reading, Dropout!” I crossed my arms, driving home a very incriminating fact. I should make an excellent attorney someday.

  His blues shifted as if a light went off in his head. “Oh! That was you? The girl on the rusty bike,” he snorted.

  “Yes, that was me! Rusty-bike, girl!” I could feel the fumes curling from my shoulders.

  “Wait!” humor sashayed in his eyes. “Those are your words, not mine.”

  “Really? Did you not say—”

  He interrupted, abruptly. “Are you always so miserable? At lunch today if I hadn't jumped in, you would've ripped that poor girl a new one. Why the temper?”

  “Why the arrogance,” I sneered. “Oh! Just shut up!” I slammed back in my seat, my back to him, staring out the window, pissed. All at once, it hit me. I remembered why I wanted to fight Gina. How could I have forgott
en?

  The new guy's brow pulled into an affronted frown. “I've been nothing but nice to you. You can show some gratitude.”

  “Gratitude,” I howled. I turned to face him, “For leaving me on the side of the road dead?”

  “Clearly, you're alive!” He bit out.

  My mouth morphed into an O. “Tell you what, buddy! Let's end this beautiful friendship before it begins. Will that work for you?” I wasn't going to explain myself to a stranger who apparently already had me pegged for a troublemaker. “Stop the car!” I demanded. “I'd rather walk in a damn blizzard than spend one more minute with you!”

  His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “I thought we were having a lovely chat!”

  “Oh, I love our little tête-à-tête so much that I want to kick rocks at your precious car.” I went to open my door and stopped. We'd been sitting in my drive. I turned to him, wide-eyed, “We're here! How is that possible?” I barely breathed.

  “I haven't a clue to what you mean, Princess.” His blues had a sheen of mischief.

  Liar! “It's only been a hot minute and… and here we are. Did we fly?” I might've been acting rude, but the sardonic twitch to the corner of his lip fueled my anger even more.

  “Perhaps you got your wings. You are an angel, after all.”

  “An angel? Really!” I wanted to throttle him. I flung the door open and jumped out, shouting, “Douche bag!” I slammed the car door in his face, blocking any further conversation. I was done.

  Spinning on my heels, I sprinted for the porch, taking two stairs at a time and all the while, I felt his eyes checking my ass. What a jerk!

  I rushed inside, closing the door behind me. I leaned on the door for a handful of seconds, wiping the tears with the back of my hand. I'd promised myself I wasn't going to cry, but I couldn't hold back the knot in my throat any longer. This dude was the final cherry on top of the miserable cake.

  Then I realized I'd forgotten my bike. I fled out the door, to catch him but I stopped, gaping. I blinked not believing my eyes.

  There before my eyes stood my bike on its kickstand directly in front of the door. My mouth hung open. “H-h-h-how did he do that?” I stammered.

  I spotted a folded piece of paper in the basket. A note? I flipped it open and read,

  Looking forward to our next tête-à-tête,

  Aidan Bane

  Anger trickled down my spine. The audacity of this dude blew my mind. He was wrong about me. I was not miserable. I was pissed off. Big-freaking difference!

  A Message from the Dead

  It was Saturday, and I'd taken an extra paper-route. Tangi Journal needed a fill-in for the day. The assigned delivery guy couldn't run his route, something to do with a sick relative in the hospital. I gladly took the offer. We needed the cash.

  Sara wasn't doing well with tips. Not sure if I believed her, but what other choice did I have? Strip-search the woman?

  Since our move, I'd become more acquainted with Ms. Noel. I once thought the bookstore, Otherworldly, was fascinating. Now that I had the opportunity to spend time with my neighbor, the store paled in comparison.

  Ms. Noel had mounds of knowledge of magick, herbs, voodoo, dead people and everything else that belonged to the weird world of extraordinary.

  Even the word magic, Ms. Noel spelled it differently. She said it divided the line between the phonies from the authentic casters.

  It didn't matter much to me. All I knew was that it was better than TV. Ms. Noel certainly had the imagination better than any blockbuster movie and since I didn't have a television or a social life, I had plenty of time on my hands to fill my brain with all her stories.

  Before we moved to Tangi, I thought psychics were cons. I was starting to lighten up and open my mind to some things.

  According to Ms. Noel, her talents came from a long line of ancestors, centuries past. One relative, in particular, grabbed my attention the most was Marie Laveau, a direct decedent.

  Ms. Noel's bloodline was a mixture of African and French. Creole of color, she'd say. I thought it was cool to have such a rich history of kinfolk. I was almost envious. I think my bloodline was more on the line of a Heinz 57.

  Sara and Jon, my dad, didn't have family. They both were orphans. I always thought it'd be cool to have a cousin or an aunt and uncle. It was only the three of us until Dad died. Then it was just Sara and me.

  The stories Ms. Noel told kept my attention for hours. Whether the tales were true or not didn't matter to me. The spiels were thrilling, holding my every breath. Often, I'd sit outside with Ms. Noel on her porch, eating sweet potato pie, listening to the adventures from the past. I treasured our lazy afternoons.

  I think Ms. Noel had taken me under her wing like a grandchild. She once told me that she and her husband, now deceased, never had any children. Maybe my being around filled the loneness for her a bit. I know she filled mine.

  Sara never paid a lot of mind to me as child. I remembered many times I'd wished for a soccer mom or one that baked cookies or even a working mom.

  Speaking of which, Sara hadn't been home for the last two weeks. It seemed a certain co-worker from the diner had taken up her evenings spilling over into the day. I hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the dude. I hadn't given much thought to him either. If he didn't end up dead, it was only a matter of time before Sara kicked him to the curve. She bored quickly with men. Either way, Francis was doomed.

  Perhaps my attitude was a bit morbid. It just was what it was. Sara didn't exactly have the best track record keeping boyfriends alive. It was freaky, to say the least. I couldn't deal with her relationships on top of my own demons to confront. Besides, why bother? I didn't have the power to parry Sara's bad luck. She was on her own with that one.

  Suddenly my attention was jarred as I spotted Ms. Noel standing on the porch. I was on my bike heading to the diner to grab a bite. I'd stopped off at the house for a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes.

  “Hey, Catin! Can ya stop by for a visit?” Ms. Noel bellowed sweetly.

  “Sure!” I figured she might need to make groceries. A couple of times a week, I'd been running errands for her. I believed in returning a favor for a favor. Besides, if it hadn't been for Ms. Noel's kindness, I would've been suffering something awful.

  I slid off my bike, kicked the stand down and jogged up the steps to Ms. Noel.

  She greeted me with a bright smile and a hug. “I hope I ain't holdin' ya up none?”

  “No ma'am, I was headed to the diner is all.” I smiled back.

  “Oh good! I have something special that I've been meaning to share with ya.” She opened her screen door, inviting me in.

  “Aw Ms. Noel, you've been generous enough. I'm starting to feel like I'm taking advantage of you.”

  “Nonsense, Chile! Ain't ya been workin' my garden?”

  A wide smile broke across my face. “Yeah, did you see how fat the tomatoes are getting?” Who would've thought that I had a green thumb?

  “Yep! I saw 'em this mornin'. They's a beauty.” She returned a smile. “Now get in 'ere!” she ordered with gentle persuasion.

  “Okay.” I stepped inside, smiling. “I'm all yours.”

  “Come this way, Catin.” I followed my neighbor as my eyes washed over the house. The small framed home was simple. By the white paint peeling off the boards, I suspected it hadn't had a paint job in years. Maybe if I get a little extra money, I'd buy some paint.

  I suspected the house was as old as Ms. Noel was. By the looks of the meager furniture, a faded couch and two rocking chairs on each side of the fireplace, I reckoned this was the only home she'd ever known. I'd never had the pleasure of staying put in one place for very long. How nice it must be living in the same house all your life.

  “Right this way, Catin!” Ms. Noel glanced over her shoulder.

  I followed, heading down a dark hallway toward the back part of the house.

  After a few steps, we came to a halt. At first, I thought she might've been
confused. She was eyeballing the plasterboard.

  Then Ms. Noel faced me, “Catin, I think it's time. Don't be frightened. I won't hurt ya.”

  Her last sentence 'I-won't-hurt-you,' hit me like a stone-cold brick. The story of Hansel and Gretel suddenly taunted my mind. “O-ookay!” I swallowed hard.

  She smiled, flashing her dentures. “I got ya, Babee! Ain't nothin' gonna happen ta ya.”

  I only nodded. Cliché as it may be but my freaking knees were knocking.

  Moments later, Ms. Noel commenced chanting some kind of unfamiliar tune. Its cadence felt eerie and unnatural.

  Without warning, the white wall had vanished before my eyes, and in its place appeared a room filled with candlelight.

  “Holy Jehoshaphat!” I stood gaping. I knew my neighbor worked with herbs and stuff, but this was far deeper than I'd imagined. When my eyes lifted to Ms. Noel, I blurted out. “You're a witch?”

  Ms. Noel tossed one of her usual warm smiles. “Have a seat, Chile.” She extended her arm, pointing to a chair at a table.

  My feet felt glued to the floor as my eyes washed over the once obscured room. A strange feeling crept over me. I knew once I stepped across the threshold that I'd be embarking upon a paradox of something that didn't make sense to me.

  Yet, I knew without a doubt that it existed. A world I neither feared nor wanted.

  Slowly, I raised my hand to feel for any trace of the wall. Eerily, the only thing my fingers touched was the crisp air. I gasped, realizing my eyes weren't playing tricks.

  Having the curiosity of nine cats, I eased a step over into the room. Though I was terrified, I was even more captivated. I wrinkled my nose turning back to Ms. Noel. “Is this even real?” My common sense kept denying what my eyes were seeing.

  Ms. Noel's body jiggled as she laughed softly. “Chile, the possibilities has never been in question.” She placed her hand gently on my shoulder. “It's always been at ya reach. Just open ya eyes.”