Eerie
Page 21
Holding onto her gigantic pants and breathing way too loudly to sneak into the auditorium unnoticed, she snapped her mouth shut and went to all nasal huffing as she nudged open the auditorium door. The latch was silent. The hinges, however, unleashed a screech that Uncle Pix probably heard all the way in Pittsburgh.
Everyone, human and human-looking non-human alike, turned to see who dared come late to the first class of the semester.
Slinking inside with her head ducked, Hailey put her butt into the first open seat in her path, shamefaced and still panting. It wasn’t until she sat down that she realized she’d stepped on a wasp, or at least that’s what it felt like.
As discretely as she could, she pulled her foot onto her lap and found it bleeding through her sock. Pushing her sock down, she surveyed the damage. It looked like a pretty good gash. Hoping to stop the bleeding, she pressed her sock against it. What else was she going to do with her hands? She didn’t have a pen or paper or a book to occupy them.
“Uh . . .continuing,” said Dr. Woodfork once Hailey was seated and the class once again turned their attention to the front of the auditorium.
“Over three thousand years ago, a man with no unnatural powers tore a hole in the barrier between the Earth and the Aether—no one knows how he did it, but we do know why. He, like all men, coveted power. He sought to steal the energies of the Aether and wield them as one might a nuclear weapon. What he didn’t know was that the energy in the Aether was not there just floating freely, waiting to be plucked like a flower from a garden. Rather, the energies were kept by beings called Envoys.
“Now, an Envoy’s purpose in the universe is to shuttle life energies out of those who die and in to those who are born—” Dr. Woodfork paused when a hand went up.
“A question. Yes, Mr. Lorn.”
“What about God? Where does God fit in?”
“Good question. Your life energy is not the same as your soul, you see.”
He slid a chalkboard out of the way to reveal a clean one behind it. There he drew three circles and connected them with lines to make a triangle.
“There are three realms,” he said, and he pointed to one of them. “One realm is the Earth, where physical things, like your body, exist. That’s where we are right now, we’re on Earth, obviously. The second—” he moved his hand over another circle, “—is the heavens, a home for your soul. This is where your soul comes from . . .and where your eternal soul ends up. It is God and Heaven, if you behave, or fire and brimstone if you don’t. The third realm—” he moved his hand to the third circle, “—is the Aether, home of life energy—the energy which binds your soul . . .” He pointed to the Heavens with his right hand. “ . . .to your body.” With his left hand he pointed to the Earth.
“Does that answer your question? Yes? Good.”
He slid the three realms out of the way.
“When the barrier between the Earth and the Aether was breeched, energy flowed from the place of high concentration—the Aether—to the place of low concentration—the Earth. In effect, the Earth was a giant suction and the Envoys who were near the great tear, were sucked through the barrier and flung onto Earth. No one knows how many Envoys crossed over, but there were at least seven and maybe as many as a hundred.
“For the remainder of the term, we are going to talk about the history and science surrounding this phenomenal event and come up with our own theories as to how a man with no unnatural charms, did the impossible and tore the barrier. Any questions?”
A hand went up.
“Yes, Miss Watters.”
“Does my soul leave my body when I dream?”
“No. Your body and soul are bound. It’s also a phenomenon, really, but try to think of it as your soul’s mind wandering along the border between realms.”
Hailey’s hand shot up.
“Yes, Miss Hartley.”
“What happened to all these Envoys after they came here? Where do they all . . .live?” If that’s what you called it.
“Anywhere they want. Anybody else? No? Continuing, then—”
“Well, Professor,” Hailey persisted, “where are they all?”
Dr. Woodfork sighed heavily.
“A good question for your laboratory period, Miss Hartley. Continuing then . . .” Dr. Woodfork flicked the switch on what looked like a document camera.
Nothing happened.
He flipped it again. And again. Then he tapped it with his pen, and when the thing jittered, half the class cringed, with several students letting out a whimper.
Hailey giggled. This was nothing compared to life with Giselle. And the thing merely threw an image on the screen anyway.
Woodfork cleared his throat.
“There is a theory,” he began, “that if a man had a sufficient amount of energy, from a very large stick of dynamite, for example, he could force the flow of energy to reverse in case of another tear in the barrier, so that an Envoy might escape the pull of the Earth and return to his home in the Aether.”
He drew a picture of a crude cartoon explosion, and some of the students snickered, but Woodfork continued unabashed.
“Over the centuries, many of the Envoys have attempted to tear the barrier to get back home, but none have succeeded. In fact, this university was founded with the express intent of piercing the veil between the realms.”
Woodfork clapped his hands together and turned on the lights. “Now then, let’s hear some of your theories on how a man did the impossible and tore the barrier in the first place. Who wants to start?”
The room went dead silent.
Looking at his watch, he sighed his disappointment. “We’re almost out of time anyway. Questions anybody? Yes. Miss Hartley.”
She couldn’t believe nobody’d asked the obvious and winced slightly as she shifted her foot.
“Dr. Woodfork, could the tear still exist?”
The professor blinked. “What did you say?”
“The original tear in the barrier—you said it’s impossible to tear the barrier. Could it be that nobody tore it? Is it possible that this man simply found a flap or a . . .a door that already existed? And if so, wouldn’t there still be a flap in that very spot? Maybe it’s more a matter of precision than explosive force . . .”
Dr. Woodfork’s jaw opened, and he stared at her thoughtfully for several uncomfortable seconds.
Hailey shifted in her seat.
“Now, well, that’s very interesting . . .” his voice trailed off as he gazed into the distance.
“Ah, here they are,” he said, blinking rapidly as four gentlemen made their way to the front of the auditorium. Woodfork nodded to them.
“I would like to introduce your Section Leads. Overseeing Section Two’s practical lab is Rakesh.”
Looking far too young to be a grad student, a man with jet black hair and flawless bronze skin waved unenthusiastically from the aisle.
Behind him, walking with a familiar swagger and holding his metal coffee cup, Fin turned to face the class when he reached the front of the room.
“Of course, this is Pádraig, who will head up Section Three.”
An excited murmur rose from the audience with some students clapping and others proudly gushing that they were in his section.
There were five sections in all with a stern-looking Boris standing to represent Section Four and a smiling Zhang Wei heading up Section Five. Professor Woodfork didn’t introduce Asher, who had somehow snuck in and was sitting in the front row, stock-still with his head down.
“ParaScience 110 will teach you the theory and history you’ll need to complete your experiments and write your reports on paranormal observations. Rest assured that these five gentlemen will ensure you survive your first year, and they will prepare you for your second year responsibilities.”
He held up an instructive finger.
Deeply engrossed in reading a book, Asher remained seated.
A flurry of auditorium seats swung up, and students sorted themselves into their respective corners, while Hailey and only Hailey made her way toward Asher, limping slowly down the stairs on her right heel, each step a red-hot nail through her foot. Half-way down the stairs, she met Professor Woodfork.
“Miss Hartley, you’re limping—are you hurt,” he asked, adjusting his glasses, and Hailey shook her head dismissively.
“It’s—it’s just—it’s just a tiny cut,” she lied. “I stepped on something sharp.”
“Where are your shoes?”
Hailey looked at her feet and sighed.
“They—uh . . .they’re gone. Along with my books. And my clothes,” she added. “That’s why I was late, Sir, I’m really sorry.”
“The joys of living with poltergeists,” he said, smiling kindly. He patted Hailey on the head, re-gripped his briefcase, and continued up the stairs.
Hailey continued hobbling down the stairs. Asher never looked up from his book.
“Where’s the rest of our group?” she asked, nervously sitting on the edge of the seat next to him, idly wondering whether her first lab with him would involve a set of bars and a sturdy lock.
Asher flipped the page of his book.
Biting her lip, Hailey tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear.
“Asher?” she said, her heart racing.
When she quietly cleared her throat, Asher’s jaw tightened.
“Leave now, Hailey,” he said in a condescending voice, still staring at his book. “I don’t want to see you.”
She blinked, her stomach twisting as she stared at his back in disbelief...wondering if he was mad at her because she didn’t want to be his prisoner.
“But . . .” she said hesitantly. “We’re supposed to discuss tomorrow’s lab...”
When the gash in her foot sent a bolt of pain straight into her bone, she drew a sharp breath, which provoked an equally sharp tone out of her section lead.
“Go to the hospital—your foot requires attention.”
She tilted her head to see his eyes, hoping he’d at least look at her, but he didn’t.
“Leave now, Hailey,” he repeated, barely opening his mouth.
She stood up with her head down, biting her lip, her eyes stinging as much as her foot. Very gingerly, she hobbled up the stairs, frowning and trying not to grunt as her foot screamed with each step. Thankfully, everyone else in the room seemed absorbed by their lab preparations and didn’t notice when Asher kicked her out. Her lip trembled, but she made it up the stairs without the pressure of a hundred eyeballs following her, and that was the only reason she didn’t cry.
In fact, she made it all the way to the door in stealth mode and was about to sneak out when Fin decided to humiliate her.
“Hailey!” he yelled, causing the whole place to turn and look as she froze next to the door.
Fin bounded up the stairs.
“You alright?” he asked, but Hailey knew if she tried to talk, she’d just cry, so she stared at the door with wide, misty eyes and shook her head.
Fin sighed in disapproval.
“Asher’s an ass. Lemme see your foot.” Stooping down, he pulled her shin, lifting her foot as if he were shoeing a horse. Balanced on one leg, Hailey looked back at him then to the center of the room where Asher had been sitting. He’d left . . .thankfully.
Fin peeled her sock back and scrunched his face. “You need to go to the hospital right away,” he told her. “This looks really bad.”
“It’s just a cut,” she said, able to speak now that Asher was gone.
“It’s not just a cut,” Fin scolded, giving her back her foot. “And where are your shoes, Hailey? You can’t tramp around Bear Towne in your stocking feet.”
“My shoes are gone,” she told him, her voice wavering horribly. “My books are gone. My clothes are gone . . .”
Fin hugged her tight. “Go get your foot fixed, knucklehead.”
She rested her head against his chest. “Thanks,” she breathed.
When he let her go, he tilted her chin up and gave her an encouraging smile. Then he headed back to his lab group, who behaved more like groupies than students. They smiled and swooned and watched every move Fin made. As did Hailey.
“By the way,” he called over his shoulder as he bounded down the stairs, “you look good in my jersey.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Splinter
“Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen,
few in pursuit of the goal.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Hailey had no intention of going to the hospital, partly because it was just a cut and only needed a Band–Aid; partly because she didn’t want to contract flesh-eating Zombitis; but mostly because Asher had ordered her to go there, and she had no intention of doing anything he said.
So, instead of heading directly to the hospital like a good little Envoy’s possession, she headed to room 210 for her next class in weights and measurements, walking stubbornly on her heel so she didn’t leave bloody footprints in her wake.
Room 210 had a wall of windows, and she found a seat next to one of them, watching as the scenery swayed with the wind. Olde Main leaned and tilted under her feet, but something about the in-between made it feel as if it weren’t moving at all . . .most of the time. Every now and then a piece of chalk would slide off the tray under the board at the front of the room. For the entire class, Hailey watched the chalk slide back and forth, trying and failing to will the throbbing pain out of her foot. In fact, the only thing she succeeded in doing was missing the lecture as the ache spread to her ankle.
Hopping into her third class of the day several minutes early, she was delighted to see the un-friendliest face she knew. She limped directly over to Giselle and collapsed in the chair next to her.
“You look like hell,” Giselle said, her hands folded on the table they shared. “Where’re your shoes?”
Hailey shook her head, feeling too sluggish to answer, and Giselle stared at Fin’s jersey.
“Tell me you did not spend the night with Pádraig.” She grabbed Hailey’s shoulder. “I told you, he’s an asshole.”
“I didn’t,” she almost yelled. Then she rolled her eyes. “I got locked out of our room, locked out of the laundry room, and a poltergeist stole all my clothes and all my books and my boots.” Hailey huffed loudly. “Plus, I think Asher’s peeved at me, and nothing is going right today.”
Giselle’s jaw fell open in jagged-toothed disbelief. “You did not see Asher wearing those clothes.” Her head pulsated; her nostrils flared. She grabbed a fistful of Fin’s jersey. “He thinks you woke up with Pádraig, you idiot. Why else would you be wearing his clothes—his JERSEY.” She flung the jersey away. ”You better go explain this to him like five minutes ago. I’m surprised he hasn’t had you removed already—or worse.”
Hailey dropped her head into her hands and moaned. Of course! That’s why he didn’t want to look at her.
“Ouch!” Hailey yelped unintentionally. It was like a hot knife pushed through her foot.
“Are you hurt?” Giselle asked incredulously.
“I—no—it’s just a scratch,” Hailey breathed, shifting her foot to hide her bloody sock.
“Let me see that.” She bent down and snatched Hailey’s fo
ot up, ripping the sock off, and pulling the wound open.
“Ahhhh!” Hailey yelled.
“Shut up.” Dropping Hailey’s foot on the desk, Giselle ran to the corner of the room, grabbed an Indispensable first aid kit, and returned looking like a woman on a mission.
“You have a carnivorous splinter,” she said as she pulled a lighter and a large pair of tweezers from the kit. “You have to get it out before it takes root around your bone, or else you’ll lose your entire leg.”
“What? Well, get it out!”
“I will. Hold still,” she said grabbing Hailey’s foot again. “It’s already burrowed pretty deep.” Giselle looked up. “You need to go to the hospital—you need a painkiller,” she said, slamming the tweezers on the desk and crossing her arms.
“I am not going to the hospital.”
“Whatever. It’s your leg.”
“Giselle,” Hailey pleaded irritably. She shoved the tweezers back into her roommate’s hand. “Just yank it out.”
Giselle studied her for a moment.
“Fine. Hold still. It’ll probably latch onto a chunk of muscle, and they usually spaz and barb when they’re threatened. This is going to hurt. Don’t pass out.”
Holding the tweezers in one hand and Hailey’s foot with the other, Giselle went to work. First, she ripped Hailey’s foot in two—at least that’s what it felt like, and Hailey let out a screech that made the whole class stare. Then Giselle plunged the tweezers through her foot until they hit her bone, whereupon she clamped onto the bone and ripped it out along with a tendon that broke loose from the back of Hailey’s heel, rolled up like a blind and dragged the arch of her foot out with it.
Holding the teeny wooden stake up triumphantly, Giselle whizzed a roll of gauze at Hailey.
“Hold pressure on your foot—I have to burn this thing.” She held a lighter to the carnivorous splinter, which screamed like a boiled lobster.