Arianna Rose: The Gathering (Part 3)

by Martucci, Christopher

  She watched as the girl passed. Clad from head to toe in black clothing, the girl, sensing Arianna’s eyes on her, narrowed her heavily lined eyes and pursed her lips. She offered a look of annoyance then said, “If you’re looking for a date, sweetheart, look elsewhere. I’m not into chicks.”

  Ordinarily, Arianna would have lost her temper at someone mouthing off at her as the girl had. However, she found herself admiring the girl’s courage instead of resenting it. Only a person who could back her smart mouth with brawn – or supernatural powers in her case – would be that aggressive. In the case of the girl, her tiny stature left only one other option: she was a witch. Arianna was growing increasingly convinced of it.

  “Ha,” Arianna laughed and acted against her trademark tendency for knee-jerk reactions. “Don’t flatter yourself. If I were into chicks, which I’m not, you definitely wouldn’t be my type.”

  The girl paused and stared hard at Arianna. Arianna did not look away. She’d expected to feel the buzz of the girl’s energy, strong and similar to the intensity of the pull she’d felt seconds ago. But so far, she felt nothing. Was she losing her mind thinking an ordinary girl had powers? She wondered. She’d also half expected a slow smile spread across the girl lips at her quick comeback, for that matter, and was surprised when it did not.

  “Shit, tough crowd,” Arianna mumbled. “I’m Arianna.”

  The girl did not answer, just stared at her blankly.

  “Do you have a name?” Arianna asked huffily.

  “I’m Beth,” the girl replied begrudgingly.

  “Now we’re making progress,” Arianna said sarcastically.

  “New?” Beth surprised her by stating more than asking with a roll of her eyes.

  “Yep, it’s my first day,” Arianna replied dryly.

  “Huh, good luck,” Beth snarled and started to walk away. She paused only to look to the front doors.

  A small commotion had begun near the main entrance. A group of eight students, five boys and three girls, had just walked in. Arianna had no idea who they were, but judging from the aggravated look on Beth’s face, she assumed they were not friends of hers. Curiosity nagged her brain so she homed in on conversations around her while Beth glanced back over her shoulder at them. From what she could hear, the group was the popular crew in the school. Chatter ranged from subtle admiration to unhealthy adoration.

  “Who are they?” Arianna asked Beth and nodded toward them.

  “Assholes,” she replied under her breath and walked away as the group approached.

  They circled around Arianna just as Beth left. She shifted her attention from the conversations she’d been eavesdropping on in the hallway to the people before her. She tried to tune into the faint hum of energy that existed when she was in the presence of fellow witches. She’d thought she’d sensed it seconds earlier, the vaguest trace of a current rippled through her when she’d first seen Beth. But now, she felt nothing. The faint hum had vanished. The group appeared to be run-of-the-mill human beings.

  “Hey, who’re you,” a girl asked Arianna.

  “Arianna. And you are?” Arianna answered icily.

  “Oh sorry,” the girl said. “I’m Jess. This is your first day?”

  “Yep, how’d you guess?”

  “Uh, you have that shell-shocked holy-shit-this-is-my-first-day look on your face.”

  “Huh, is it that obvious?” Arianna asked.

  “Totally.”

  “Wow, that’s embarrassing.”

  A male voice cleared his throat and Jess fluttered to the side. “Oh, yeah, guys, this is Arianna. It’s her first day,” Jess announced to the group. “This is Scott,” she said and gestured to a boy who appeared to be the heart of the group, the person around whom everyone else had positioned themselves.

  “Hey,” Scott said and tipped his chin in greeting. After seeing Desmond the day before, she thought every other guy would look about as attractive as a gnarled gnome in her eyes. But Scott was not unattractive in the least. Her knees weren’t knocking or anything like that, but he was good looking enough. And if she were judging him based solely upon the conversations swirling when he’d walked in, then he was a god.

  “How’s it going,” Arianna said.

  “Good, getting better by the minute. If you need any help finding your classes, or with anything, just let me know. I’d be more than happy to lend a hand,” he said and smiled a devilish smile.

  Arianna felt certain Scott’s smile alone had gotten him plenty of female action in school. He flashed it at her with confidence that bordered on cockiness, and rightly so. He did have an amazing smile. What he did not know was that he was wasting his time. She wasn’t interested in flirting with him; especially after enduring the ego-crushing rejection episode with Desmond.

  “Thanks for the offer,” she said flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Scott’s brown eyes danced with delight. Arianna wondered why, wondered if perhaps he enjoyed a challenge and viewed her as one. If that were the case, he’d be in for the challenge of a lifetime. A prophesied super witch doomed to a life of loneliness and celibacy couldn’t be more challenging.

  “This is George,” Jess said and interrupted the intensity of Scott’s stare. She pointed to a tall, lanky boy beside Scott. Baby-faced despite his gaunt build, George smiled a humorless smile that ended at his lips. His boyish features were betrayed by an air of gravity that surrounded him, existing like a separate entity she swore she could touch if she tried. He was the poster child for the surly teenage boy.

  Jess continued with her introductions and rattled names as she pointed to a Paul, a Chris, a Josh, a Kit and a Meg.

  “Nice to meet you,” Arianna said to the group.

  “Maybe we can meet up at lunch,” Scott suggested. His tone was neither flirtatious nor predatory and Arianna felt confident he had received the silent psychic message she’d sent.

  “Yeah, why don’t you hang with us at lunch?” Meg asked.

  “What do you have first period?” Jess asked and gripped the paper Arianna held for a closer look.

  Her hand brushed Arianna’s hand, and Arianna felt a fleeting flux of energy drift across her skin. She wondered whether it was mind over matter, or whatever the cliché witch expression was for her powers willing into existence something that did not really exist. Either way, she’d thought she’d felt something. She looked up from her hand and was met with guileless blue eyes, innocent eyes, not the eyes of a witch. The expression she wore and the clarity of her freshly scrubbed, freckled face did not belong to that of a supernatural being, but a grown-up Raggedy Ann doll.

  “I see you have Mr. Dickinson first period,” she said and pushed an errant lock of ginger hued hair from her forehead. “I do, too. I’ll take you there,” she suggested.

  “We’ll see you later,” Scott said and winked. He turned from Arianna and Jess and began walking away with George practically pinned to his hip.

  “Yeah, I hope we see you later!” Meg said cheerfully and scurried after Scott and George.

  The rest of the group followed suit, traveling like a bizarre multi-legged creature. Scott clearly led the way, led all of them. She’d seen the same thing in school after school she’d been to for as far back as she could remember. Even as early as elementary school, cliques had formed and inevitably had a clearly defined leader. They generally irritated her, but considering that this was her final high school experience, she was willing to let this one go and maybe even allow herself to be included in theirs.

  Arianna looked up and found herself alone with Jess.

  “This school is not so bad, once you get used to it,” Jess said as they walked down the hallway. “The teachers are okay and most of the kids are nice.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Arianna said. “So far everyone seems all right.”

  Arianna stared straight ahead as they walked. She looked down the long hallway and saw countless heads, but felt Jess’ eyes on her. She did not know what she wa
s expected to say. Was she supposed to start rambling about her past, tell her life story maybe? She wondered. She wasn’t a ready talker when it came to initiating a conversation. She fared better when she was reacting to a person or situation, not taking the reins and yammering about herself.

  “So,” she tried to breach the awkward silence. “Mr. Dickinson, huh. That’s a great name. I bet the kids have a field day with it.”

  She’d hoped Jess would start telling her all the rude variations of his name other kids had come up with over the years, but she did not. Instead, she drew her brows together in confusion.

  “You know, because his name has the word,” she started, but did not see the point in continuing. “Oh forget it,” she said and waved her hand absently. She did not want to ruin what was happening. She did not want to offend Jess with her crude sense of humor, not yet, at least. Even awkward silence was preferable to hostility.

  “Here we are. Mr. Dickinson’s room,” Jess stopped in front of an open door.

  “Room eighty-eight, it is,” Arianna replied and smiled warmly.

  Arianna thanked her and glanced into the room. Jess walked in ahead of her and sat before a desk near the front of the room. As Arianna passed her seat and headed to an empty desk in back, Jess tugged her arm and said, “Trust me, Mr. Dickinson does not live up to his name, but I’m happy to fill you in on some of the more colorful names he’s been called recently.” Jess arched a brow. A wicked gleam twinkled in her blue eyes and they no longer looked as open as they had before. She smiled broadly. “I’m not as innocent as I seem,” she smirked before releasing Arianna’s arm.

  Arianna smiled back, but paused for a moment, unsure of what to make of what Jess had said. She had not thought Jess was prudish earlier. She just had not wanted to open the floodgates of her crass sense of humor yet. They’d just met. There would be plenty of time for everyone to be offended by her in the near future. She’d simply wanted to try pacing herself this time around. As it turned out, she had nothing to worry about. Jess was like her. She contemplated saying as much, but decided against it and made her way to the empty desk in the last row. She sat down just in time for Mr. Dickinson to sweep into the room with a Styrofoam coffee cup from a franchise coffee house in hand.

  “Does anyone else just hate getting up so darn early?” he asked. “I didn’t even have time for my morning cigarette, so I may have to dismiss class early. By the way, anyone who mentions my cigarette comment will fail my class. Cigarettes are bad, blah, blah, blah, lecture, lecture, lecture,” he said and Arianna reverted back to her initial impression after she’d met Keller. She must be in an alternate universe. So far, her new school was too good to be true.

  Chapter 6

  Sifting from Maine to New York had sapped Desmond of any remaining energy he’d had. Teleporting long distances often did that to him. His exhaustion was compounded, however, by what had happened between him and Arianna. He had not planned to kiss her, much less for things between them to become so heated. But he loved her, and when he was with her, he felt drawn to her more than any place or person in his life. A force more potent than the Earth’s gravitational pull kept him in her orbit, kept him close by. He had to remind himself, though, that despite his intense attraction to her, he would always be kept at a distance. The prophecy said as much.

  Prophecy or no prophecy, he knew she must be seething by now, that any hurt or embarrassment she’d felt had long-since been transformed into pure anger. He did not blame her. He was angry, too. Each time he recalled the prophecy after seeing her, it felt more and more like a sick cosmic joke. Part of him wanted to say to hell with it, and succumb to the gravity of his feelings. But he knew he could not, that the ramifications of him disregarding it could be catastrophic. So he would suffer, with love so natural and instinctive it was like breathing, for a woman he could never be with.

  An icy wind howled like a wounded animal through the stately cedars along the lane that led to the Soldiers of the Divine Trinity Church and echoed an ache deep within him. The giant barbed boughs of the trees swayed with the gust, but never surrendered their sentinel stare. Who or what they watched for, he did not know, but felt as though the entire forest around him was vigilant, waiting with bated breath. Still, he moved forward and allowed the crisp air to invigorate him. He needed the time to recharge, knew that entering the church would require him to sift through the buildings formidable exterior.

  When Desmond finally reached the end of the pathway, the church towered imposingly. He had been there just two weeks earlier, but in that time, he had forgotten what a striking structure it was. Built entirely of stone, it would have looked like a grand fortress were it not for the beveled stained-glass windows that ornamented it like jewels sparkling in the sunlight, and the cross at the apex of the steeple. But he hadn’t come to the church to appreciate the intricate architecture. He’d come for answers. Howard Kane had spent the greater part of his life hunting the Sola. If a bastardization of her prophecy existed, one that depicted her as a vengeful, evil force sent to overtake the world, Kane would surely have it.

  Yellow tape blocked the wooden doors at the top of a set of short, concrete steps, and a sticker posted between them announced that the church had been closed indefinitely pending a criminal investigation. The Soldiers of the Divine Trinity Church had been declared a crime scene. He’d known that much, and about the investigation. The local newspaper reported weeks earlier that the police department and the FBI had unearthed the charred remains of Kane’s men. While most would have been deterred by their destination being declared a crime scene, Desmond was encouraged by it. Cleared of congregants and staff, as well as the possibility of anyone arriving, the threat of being discovered was eliminated. He would be free to search for what he’d come for.

  Desmond closed his eyes and envisioned himself inside the building, envisioned his body passing effortlessly through stone and wood, through plaster and paint. As he did so, his body felt weightless and white light filled his field of vision for the briefest of moments. When he opened his eyes again, he stood inside the vestibule. Unlit candles sat on an iron rack to his left along the wall and a large empty vat that had once held holy water sat in the center of the passageway. Ahead was another set of wooden doors. They opened to the congregational seating area where rows of pews faced a sanctuary. Desmond walked down the center aisle. He needed to get to the presbytery, the place where Kane had both worked and lived. In his office and living space, he was certain he’d find some kind of documentation that had distorted the truth of the Sola’s purpose so much so that it had driven Kane and his people, as well as the man in the drainage system.

  He stopped at the altar and looked off to his left and saw the sacristy. Typically, only Bibles and vestments were kept inside, but he looked anyway. He stepped into the small storage area and scanned the few titles that were not Bibles. Nothing of interest caught his attention. He walked back out to the sanctuary and past the altar. On the right was a small area with statues of saints and another rack of unlit candles. Beyond them, however, was a door. Desmond opened the door and found that on the other side of it was a hallway. He quickly strode down it, his need for clarity pounding against his ribcage in time with his heartbeat. He needed to find something, anything, that would shine light on the robed man’s words; on the destruction he continued to be drawn to, and to end the ceaseless grumblings of his brain.

  At the end of the hallway, a single door awaited him. He turned the handle and pushed the door forward. An ornate cherry wood desk and floor-to-ceiling shelves in a matching wood that gleamed as though it had just been polished occupied one-half of the space. The other half was a living quarter decorated with furniture in an identical finish. His eyes went immediately to the bookshelf. Dozens of leather-bound volumes had been neatly arranged on each shelf. Most of the titles involved witchcraft in some way or another. Some were against it; some were reference books, while others were veritable how-to manuals.

 
; He closed his eyes and searched with his entire being for any book of use. He opened them and his gaze zeroed in on a particular one. His heart nearly stopped when he noticed the title of the one he focused on, and that its spine protruded from the shelf, away from the others, as if beckoning him. Distinctive in coloring, its leather was worn and the gold lettering on its spine had been scuffed so that the words along it were no longer legible. He reached out and slid it from its place.

  With the heavy book in his hands, the title on the cover became visible. Desmond nearly dropped the fragile looking volume when he saw that it was the Tome of Ares, written by Asus, one of the most powerful warlocks in history. How could Kane possibly have such a sacred book in his possession? His father had read to him from The Tome of Ares long ago, when he was a child. That is how he came to know of the prophecy, of the Sola.

  The book looked too old, too tattered to be a replica. The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose, as though a warning had been whispered with tempting lips up the length of his neck, while his hand slid beneath the leather cover. He turned the first page and saw that it had been handwritten. It was the original. Kane had somehow procured the original Tome of Ares. He began thumbing through the fragile, yellowed pages and read line after line of horrific text that foretold of the Sola leading the whole of her kind against humanity.

  The prophecy he was reading, the words in Kane’s book, did not gel with all he’d been taught, though. Kane’s Tome stated that the rise of the Sola was to unite the witches of the world to destroy humanity in an effort to claim the planet for themselves.

  Desmond’s mouth went dry and his hands began to tremble. He knew Arianna would never do what the book predicted she’d do. He knew her, had known her for her entire life. She wasn’t capable of orchestrating the global annihilation of humankind. Yet, the Tome said otherwise. None of it made sense.