The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2)

by Sophia Martin

Khalilah sighed. “Fayez and Daniel should form a club.”

  “Fayez isn’t too keen on you investigating this either, I take it?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Look, I believe that Daniel will keep his promise to me, Khalilah. And I won’t talk to him about it again. I don’t need to deal with his overprotectiveness.”

  “Alright,” Khalilah said. After a pause, she continued. “I thought about coming round to get you so we could try looking at the site where they’re going to have the grocery, but it seems like a long shot. I think we’re better off going to the grocery where Mohammed currently works tomorrow.”

  “He works at a grocery store?”

  “Well, more of a kind of deli, yes. Which also sells some goods,” Khalilah said.

  “He’ll have touched all kinds of things there,” Veronica said. “I should be able to get something.”

  “My thoughts exactly. You’ll work your magic and maybe we’ll find out if he’s hiding Amani somewhere.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll call in a sub,” Veronica said.

  “As will I,” Khalilah agreed. “I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

  “Eleven?”

  “That’s when the grocery opens.”

  “Oh,” Veronica said. “In that case, pick me up from school. I’ll teach part of my first class and get the sub situated. It’ll be easier than trying to put together a sub plan. I have to do some grading tonight.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter 11

  She was standing in a kitchen with a bright, central light. The floor was black and white checked linoleum. The counters were covered in dirty dishes, empty packages of chips, and empty bottles of cola. There was an island counter in the center with two tall chairs. A little girl sat in one. She had her dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a green and white striped shirt and blue jeans, and pink flip flops on her feet, although it was cold in the kitchen.

  The little girl bent over a workbook. Four pencils lay on the counter in addition to the one in her hand. Veronica watched her painstakingly write out the answers to addition problems. Then a knock sounded on the door on the right side of the kitchen.

  “Ok, take it to your room,” Veronica said—except of course, she was Lola again. Veronica felt a distant sense of frustration. Why another Lola dream? Why couldn’t she just dream of Amani? Of her location?

  But the thoughts were loose and untethered, and they drifted in all directions, and she could only focus on what she was experiencing as Lola.

  The little girl stopped working but did not get out of the chair. “I still have two pages,” she said.

  “Leinani, get out of here,” Lola said sharply. She stepped to the door, but turned to glare at the girl, her hand resting on the knob.

  Leinani gave Lola a sour face and then she gathered up her workbook and the pencils. She left the room.

  “Little shit,” Lola said under her breath, and she opened the door. Shelby was standing there. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Shelby said. Lola’s heart started to race.

  Shelby entered the kitchen, looking around like she had never been there before.

  “Anybody home?” she asked Lola.

  “Just Lei.”

  “I should have brought Brendon,” Shelby said. “They could have played together.”

  “Leinani’s six,” Lola said.

  “So?”

  “So Brendon’s like, one?”

  “Eighteen months,” Shelby said.

  “It’s so weird you’re a mom.”

  “Yeah. It is weird,” Shelby agreed. “I guess I’m lucky, my mom lets me go out. A lot of girls at my school, their moms make them stay home, like they’re punishing them for having a baby. And some of them don’t have moms, or at least not that they can rely on. I lucked out. My mom loves Brendon.”

  “Nice,” Lola said. Her heart was still beating fast. Veronica wondered why. “So, you want to go roll one?”

  “Sure,” Shelby agreed.

  Lola led her from the kitchen up a staircase, and into the room Veronica had seen at the beginning of the last dream. It hadn’t changed—it even had the same wrappers on the floor.

  Lola crouched by the bed and stuffed her hand under the mattress. She brought out a ziplock bag with a little bit of pot in it.

  “I have papers,” Shelby offered.

  “Okay.”

  Lola seemed awkward. Her voice was more gentle than Veronica had ever heard it before. The way she stood was odd. Like she didn’t want to be too tall.

  “I could score some meth if you want,” Lola offered. “My step-brother’ll have some.”

  Shelby wrinkled her nose. “I thought you quit that shit.”

  Lola shrugged one shoulder. Veronica could feel her face growing hot. Shelby took the baggy from her hand and proceeded to roll a small joint. Lola watched, not speaking. Her eyes followed Shelby’s fingers, and then moved to the silky blond hair laying on her shoulders. It looked heavy, shining just a bit in the low light of the bedside table. Veronica wondered if Lola wished she looked like Shelby. Veronica could remember envying other girls when she was a teen. She remembered thinking one girl had the prettiest mouth she’d ever seen, and wishing her own mouth would change shape to look like it.

  Shelby finished rolling and put the joint between her lips. Maybe it was the memory at work, but Veronica noticed that she had a very pretty mouth. Her lips looked soft.

  Lola found her matches from the night before sitting on the windowsill and lit one, bringing it to the joint. Shelby tilted her head to the side, took the joint between her fingers, and inhaled, making the cherry flare.

  Veronica hated the smell of pot. She’d never enjoyed it. It made her feel faintly ill. She hoped Lola wouldn’t have any. Lola had other ideas, however. She sat on the bed next to Shelby, took the joint, and sucked in smoke, filling her mouth. Allowing a little to escape, she gestured to Shelby, who leaned in. Lola opened her lips to Shelby’s, letting the smoke escape from her mouth into Shelby’s.

  Veronica understood, then. And a lot more of what she’d seen made sense. Lola liked Shelby. Not as a friend. As a girlfriend. Lola wanted Shelby.

  Veronica wondered what had happened with Caitlin, then. Had Shelby and Lola been together before? Perhaps Caitlin had come between them somehow? Or maybe Lola had been pining for Shelby, all this time, and all it took was for Shelby to defend Caitlin in Mos’s car for Lola go into a jealous rage.

  Lola leaned in a bit more, perhaps pretending to give Shelby the last of the smoke. Shelby closed her eyes and kissed Lola, her tongue touching Lola’s lips.

  Veronica felt flustered. She was experiencing a very private moment, and it was between two women, and she wasn’t used to that. She felt everything, she tasted everything. Shelby’s mouth tasted cool, despite the smoke, and sweet, perhaps because of it. Lola’s heart thudded against her ribcage like a trapped bird. She reached a hand up and timidly brought it to Shelby’s neck, running her fingers lightly over Shelby’s skin. It was firm but smooth. She caught the flicker of Shelby’s pulse under her forefinger.

  Shelby began kissing her harder, more aggressively. Lola melted into it; she was more than willing—she had wanted this for a long time. Her head was spinning and each kiss made her dizzier.

  Veronica felt like a peeping tom. It wasn’t right to spy on Lola in this moment she was sharing with Shelby. I need to wake up now, Veronica thought. I shouldn’t see the rest of this.

  Shelby’s hand rested on Lola’s waist, and then it was slowly moving up. Her hand found Lola’s breast, covering it, and rubbing a little with the palm. Lola gasped. Shelby’s mouth traveled from Lola’s lips to her jaw, and then her neck. Her other hand covered Lola’s other breast, so she was holding them both, and squeezing.

  At that moment light poured over them. They jerked apart, and Lola spun to look at her bedroom door. A male figure stood there.

  “What the fuck is this?” he demanded.
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  “Shit,” Shelby hissed. “I thought you said just Leinani was home.”

  Lola didn’t answer. She moved to put herself between Shelby and the figure in the doorway.

  “Fucking whore. Get your slutty friend out of my house,” the figure growled.

  Lola still said nothing, but stood up.

  “Fucking lesbo-whore,” the figure said.

  “Shut up, Owen,” Lola said, and Veronica could feel her tense up, expecting the blow that immediately came. He stuck her hard across the face. She fell to one knee, but got back up quickly.

  “Get the fuck outta my room!” Lola spat, holding her jaw.

  “Get the fuck outta my house, whore-bitch!” the man said, and he lunged at her. Lola tried to dodge him, but he caught her hair. He yanked and dug his fingers into it further, until he had a handful, and he yanked it again. The second time, the yank brought Lola to her knees.

  “Owen?” came a woman’s voice from somewhere below.

  “Mom!” Lola screamed.

  Owen took a step back, dragging Lola with him. She clawed at his hand but shuffled forward on her knees, moaning with pain.

  “Leave her alone!” Shelby cried, and Veronica felt her above and to the side, moving fast: some violent gesture.

  Owen grunted and lurched, and Lola was free. She took a moment to clutch her scalp, but then she looked up and saw that Owen had his hands wrapped around Shelby’s biceps, and he was shaking her as hard as he could. Shelby must have attacked him with the bedside lamp, for she had it in one hand, and she was trying to hit him with it. The way he was shaking her, though, it looked like she was going to drop it.

  Lola took in the sight of Owen shaking Shelby for only a second and she was on her feet. She leapt at him, digging her fingernails into the side of his face and his ear, trying to rip his flesh.

  Owen released Shelby and turned on Lola, grabbing at her face.

  “What the hell?” came a voice from outside the room.

  “Mom!” Lola called.

  Owen made a grunt of disgust and he landed a punch against Lola’s neck, which cut off her air. She crumpled, grasping at her throat, trying to breathe. Was this it? Veronica wondered. Was she supposed to witness Lola’s murder?

  “Fucking bitch brought her whore girlfriend home to fuck,” Owen said, but Veronica couldn’t see who he was talking to, because Lola was looking at the floor, her dark hair a curtain around her face. She was beginning to breath again. It was a terrible relief.

  “Lola, you have been warned,” the woman Veronica assumed to be Lola’s mother said in a loud, plaintiff voice. “What have I told you? Owen doesn’t want anybody coming over.”

  Lola felt gentle hands on her shoulders. Peeking through her hair, she saw Shelby’s knees.

  “I’ll leave,” Shelby said.

  “Yeah? Get the fuck out,” Owen said.

  “Bringing some girl here to do who knows what and your sister is right down the hall,” Lola’s mother whined.

  “Mom,” Lola managed, at last able to speak, although her throat ached from the punch. “Mom, he hurt me.”

  “Don’t start with me,” her mother replied. “You know the rules of this house.”

  “I’ve had enough of her shit, Terri!” Owen shouted.

  “I know!” Lola’s mother cried. Her voice wavered. She was afraid of him.

  Shelby stood up, and Lola slowly sat upright.

  “I’m outta here,” Shelby said. As she tried to slip past Owen, he thrust his chest at her in a faint, and she cringed. He chuckled.

  Veronica could feel Lola’s white hot rage. Her pure hatred of the man. She would kill him with her bare hands if she could. She wanted to tear out his eyes with her fingernails.

  Shelby disappeared, and Veronica could see Terri, Lola’s mother, now. She was a tired-looking, heavy woman with tan, matte skin and black hair up in a high bun on her head.

  “You have to listen to your father, Lola,” she said.

  “Fuck you,” Lola said in a low, shaky voice. “He’s not my fucking father.”

  Terri looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “Yeah, he’s better than your father. We wouldn’t be in this house if your father was still around. He’d have snorted or smoked all the rent money three months ago and we’d be living in a car if we were lucky. You remember those days, don’t you, honey?”

  “Shut up,” Lola said in that same low voice. “Like things are so fucking good now. Like things are just swell.” She laughed bitterly. “You’re so fucking clueless.”

  Veronica could feel Lola shaking. She could feel something bubbling inside her chest—it might be sobs, or it might be laughter, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t think Lola knew, either.

  “Don’t you talk to me like that—”

  Owen sneered at Terri, who shut up. He turned to Lola.

  “You are a guest in this house, you little slut,” he said in a tight voice. “You will abide by my rules or I will put you out on the street—”

  “Fine!” Lola shouted so loud it made her throat spasm with pain. She clutched it with one hand. She turned and started grabbing clothes and putting them in a pile. Then she went under the bed and brought out her backpack—the same one she brought to school and dropped so loudly by her table when she sat down in Veronica’s class. She opened it and began emptying it.

  “Oh, so now you’re wunning away fwom us?” Owen mocked.

  Lola’s mouth twisted sourly. She shook her head and began stuffing clothes into the bag. “You want me out,” Lola whispered. “Fine by me.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Veronica caught sight of Owen tossing up his hands and leaving Lola’s room. She couldn’t tell whether Terri stayed or left as well.

  Lola violently zipped up her backpack and exited her room. Terri stood in the hall, shifting from one foot to the other. Lola ignored her and walked down the hall, away from the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Terri whined.

  Lola stopped outside a closed door. She turned and gave Terri a hot glare. “I’m not leaving Lei here,” Lola said.

  Terri’s eyes widened. “Have you lost your mind?” she asked.

  Lola snorted and turned to the door, opening it. She felt, rather than saw Owen reappear on the stairs. She stopped and closed the door again without entering the room. Her hands were trembling.

  “Get the fuck out,” Owen said. “Do it now, and maybe I’ll let you go nicely. But you try any bullshit like that again and I’ll fucking throw you out myself.”

  Lola’s throat burned, and not just from the blow she’d received. She hesitated by her sister’s door. Then she started to take the backpack off her shoulder.

  “Oh hell no!” Owen shouted. “It is too fucking late for second thoughts, whore! I want you out! You’re out!” He began trudging up the rest of the stairs.

  “Fine!” Lola said, shouldering the bag again. But that was not enough for Owen. He pushed roughly past Terri, who stumbled against the wall. He lunged at Lola, and caught hold of her upper arm. She tried to jerk away, and he wrenched her arm so hard she thought for a moment he’d dislocated it. Lola gritted her teeth against the pain. Owen half dragged, half carried her to the edge of the stairs, and then he thrust her forward, almost to the point where she would overbalance and fall.

  “Get the fuck out now!” he shouted into her ear, releasing her.

  Lola grabbed the banister, stumbling down the first three steps. Then she got her footing again, and she hurried the rest of the way down. When she reached the bottom, she ran for the door. She turned the knob, swung it open, and plunged into the cool outdoor air, slamming it as hard as she could behind her.

  ~~~

  It was the second Lola dream that had ended in violence and her slamming a door, Veronica thought in a sort of detached horror. She lay in her bed, feeling cold and shaken.

  “I get it,” she muttered. “Lola’s life really sucks. What I don’t get, though, is what you guys want me to do about it.” />
  If anyone told Veronica about the scene she had just witnessed, Veronica would report it to Child Protective Services. As a teacher, she was a mandated reporter, but more than that, she wanted to report any case of child abuse she heard about. And what she’d just witnessed was child abuse. But now she didn’t know what to do. Should she lie and say she heard about what had happened somehow?

  This was the trouble with information she gained in dreams. She knew that it was real, but there was always a slight doubt. She had so little experience with all of it. Of course, she’d had prophetic dreams all of her life, but she couldn’t always trust them to be completely accurate. Sometimes some of the details were different when the future came to pass. And in any case, from what she could tell, she wasn’t dreaming Lola’s future. She was dreaming her present, as she had when she dreamed Sylvia Gomez’s murder. The things she saw were unfolding at the moment that she saw them, she suspected. So did that mean that they were perfectly accurate?

  What if some things turned out to be different in reality? Like names. What if she went and called CPS and made a report, only to discover that Lola’s parents were named Stacy and Steve, not Terri and Owen?

  Well, that was easy enough to solve. Veronica could look Lola up in the computer in her classroom. Lola’s parents’ names would be there, as would her address and anything else CPS needed in the report.

  Okay, thought Veronica. I’ll check the computer. If the names match, I’ll call CPS. I’ll say I heard some students talking about Lola, and what happened at her house. Then it will just be up to CPS to investigate.

  With that settled, Veronica relaxed. But sleep eluded her, chased off by the awful images that replayed themselves in her mind.

  ~~~

  Veronica did not expect to see Lola the next day. She wondered where Lola had gone after leaving her step-father’s home. Had she made it to a friend’s? Or had she found some secret alley and slept in the cold?

  Veronica was shocked, therefore, when ten minutes into French II, Lola burst through the classroom door with her usual energy. Veronica had just gotten the class started on rehearsing the dialogues they had written the time before. She was organizing things, creating a seating chart and a sub plan, and she expected the next person through the door to be her sub. But instead, it was Lola.