The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  At the end of the old road stood a huge mansion.

  It could have been from a horror movie.

  It was a decrepit and ancient-looking white three-story Gothic house with pitched roofs and a huge front porch. Somehow it was both frightening and inviting. It was similar to how I’d imagined the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel. Huge willow trees and oaks lined the yard and long driveway.

  Everything seemed as it would’ve been when the house was made, no doubt hundreds of years earlier. Like it was all frozen in time. Considering I was the girl lost in time, maybe we matched.

  “This is my home.” She sounded proud of the crappy old house. “Come on. You need to meet your new housemates.” She turned and strolled up to the house, cackling like a witch.

  Chapter 2

  Hot, for a psychopath

  Ari

  Silence prevailed except for creak of the old storm door as they entered the dark house. The front room was huge, with an old black iron bench and a real umbrella stand with umbrellas in it. Everything appeared to be as old as the house.

  “Kitchen is this way, dear,” Lydia spoke quickly.

  “Okay,” I muttered as I closed the door, peeking out the window of it and locking it. I always watched my six.

  When I turned I grew intimidated by the dark corridor she had vanished down and the lack of housemates.

  I wondered if the old bat was a ghost, and I’d been lured to the old haunted house for a reason. Some kind of sacrifice for the creepy cult.

  Lights flickered at the end of the massive hall.

  Of course they did. All scary houses needed flickering lights and dark halls.

  My eyes widened as I realized the light flickered from people passing through it. I prayed silently that if they could flicker a light and make a shadow it meant they weren’t ghosts.

  Not wanting to sit in the dark entryway, I took a step toward the hall. Each step was taken with a measure of uncertainty. I swallowed hard as I got closer, close enough to hear the people talking in the room beyond the hallway.

  “Well, I knew last year, but she wasn’t there yet. It’s hit now,” Lydia spoke defiantly as she crossed the doorway at the very end of the hall.

  “You had to bring her here?” A new voice joined the conversation, a girl. Her comment hurt my feelings in one way and justified the hate inside me in a different way.

  “I brought you here, didn’t I? She’s as alone in the world as we are.” Lydia sounded as though there was no discussing it. I was invited and staying. “Well, don’t stand out in the hallway, Ari, dear. It’s rude.”

  Contemplating running for the door and avoiding this awkward moment, I took a slow, deep breath and ignored the desire to bolt. I wanted food and someone to explain what was going on.

  I winced when the light hit my eyes, but I still managed to catch the blonde girl in the kitchen with Lydia suck her breath in at seeing me for the first time. It was easily the bitchiest greeting I’d ever received, but the other me, the scary one, was completely used to it. Her eyes widened in horror for a millisecond before she pressed her lips together and tried to act indifferent. It didn’t work though. Every time I glanced her way she was staring, weirdly.

  When I realized there was basically nothing more to the room than where we were standing, the kitchen walls began closing in around me. I hadn’t minded small spaces before then.

  “Yes, it’s cozy for such a huge mansion, but in my day we didn’t need a large kitchen. Servants were accustomed to small quarters. You’re lucky I never put the kitchen in the basement like everyone else.”

  “Seriously, servants?” I turned and stared rudely. “You built the house?” That didn’t make sense. It had to be hundreds of years old.

  “Yes.” Lydia nodded. “And no, I didn’t do the work. But my husband at the time let me have some say in the planning.”

  “Wow.” I raised my eyebrows. “How old is this place?” Guessing, I would’ve said at least two hundred years, but obviously that couldn’t be.

  “Oh, old enough. Anyway, this is Aimee. She’s, well, different—like you. Aimee, this is Ari.” Lydia smiled brightly. “Until you get to know each other, I wouldn’t go holding hands. Who knows what’ll happen.” She laughed to herself, confusing me and pissing off the blonde.

  Aimee was beautiful, even with the weird looks she shot at me. She was tall and thin with black pants and huge red leather boots. Something about her, the pain in her eyes perhaps, frightened me. Her long blonde hair sat in silky waves around her face and shoulders, enhancing her gray-blue eyes.

  She was pretty, there was no denying that. Rude and pretty.

  “Eat, dear.” Lydia put food on the table.

  I nearly jumped at the chance to eat. I slumped into a seat and began sipping straight from the bowl, leaving the spoon on the table. Unaware they were watching, I guzzled back the soup. I couldn’t stop myself from shoveling the food down my throat. Living on the streets as one part of me had, I knew to eat when the food was available. The sensible side of me that had grown up in a diner, knew I was eating like a savage. But I didn’t care.

  “Ari, dear, do you understand what happened?” Lydia asked as she sat down.

  “What?” I looked up from the bowl, still sipping the hot liquid. “No.” I put the bowl down and wiped my mouth with my hands and then rubbed them on my pants.

  “Wow.” Aimee grimaced. “It’s really unsanitary to wipe it like that.”

  In the oddest choice I have ever made, I leapt off the chair before I could stop myself, diving at the blonde as she laughed and vanished from the spot she’d been standing. I slammed into the counter and cupboards.

  Lydia narrowed her gaze. “Girls, this isn’t a fight you want to have.”

  Turning, I glanced back at Lydia, confused. “How—h-how did she do that?”

  “Oh, I have a few talents.” Aimee strolled back into the kitchen, clicking her heels on the old wood floor. “One of which, you don’t want to know about.” Her gray-blue eyes sparkled with mystery and humor.

  “That’s enough out of you.” Lydia pointed a long gnarled finger at Aimee. “You girls, neither of you should use what you have on each other, until we know exactly what Ari does with those magical hands of hers.”

  “Magic?” I lifted my hands, fighting the tears that threatened my eyes. “Cursed.”

  “It is magic, I assure you, Ari. We have heaps of it in this house.” Lydia sighed.

  “I don’t know about magic. It was something bad. My uncle—” I whispered. “He just left, like mist.” The gold ring on my thumb glistened in the kitchen light and made the lump in my throat larger.

  “Your uncle?” Lydia encouraged me.

  “He vanished. I made him vanish. I don’t know how. I was hot and I touched him and he was gone.” A small part of me wanted to stop talking. It wanted to rage about the kitchen and run from the house. I quashed that instinct to be alone before I could act. As odd as the old lady was, she was the only one with a clue about what was going on. “I’m not me anymore.” I turned and slid down the cupboards, sitting on the floor with my ridiculous boots and ripped black pants out in front of me.

  Aimee sat beside me on the floor of the kitchen. “I know how it feels.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” Her gray eyes narrowed. “My hands made someone disappear once too.” She silently relived horrors within the statement. Whatever they were, I guessed they were what made her look so hollow.

  Lydia sat on the outdated metal kitchen chair in front of us. “And like Aimee once had to do, you too will need to control not only your new self, but also the hunger.”

  “The hunger?” I gazed at my hands and recalled the sensation I’d had when I touched my uncle. It was almost like a hunger.

  “You need to be able to control it before we can let you out of the house again. We don’t know exactly what you do, just yet.”

  Apparently, her words were the wrong ones. That new part of m
e didn’t like to be trapped. My body tightened and I considered fleeing again.

  “No”—Aimee put a hand on my shoulder—“not like a prison, like a shelter. You’re safe here.”

  I needed to run. Desert me needed running. “Is there somewhere here I can run?”

  “Of course not.” Lydia laughed. “Where would you go? What if you made other people vanish?”

  “I ran in the desert, eight miles a day. I need it.” I had to get out of there and find a way home. I needed a home. My mind started to race as my chest tightened.

  “Oh.” Lydia laughed harder. “For sport. Well, you could run the back trail. It’s protected as well. The trail is about five miles. It’s a loop around the lake out back.”

  “Okay.” I sighed in relief, realizing this might not be so bad. Food. A house. A running path. And the old lady helping me get my other life back. My eyes darted to Aimee’s hand still on my shoulder. “You aren’t hurting me by touching me.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I learned how to control it. Took me a while, but I’ve got it now.” Aimee stared closer at my face. “Not that it matters. Those black eyes suggest I might not be able to hurt you.”

  She glanced back at Lydia. The older woman smiled like a grandma about to pass you a muffin and tell you everything would work out.

  But she didn’t.

  I wanted to smile. I wanted to go back to my normal life, but I didn’t know how I’d get to the desert. How would I find my uncle if my new mind had memories of him that didn’t make sense? He was here, in Portland. Not Portland, Maine, but Portland, Oregon.

  My uncle had said my mother died in Portland, Maine. The new version of me didn’t believe that anymore.

  “None of it matters now.” Lydia put a hand out. “You need a shower and some sleep, love. It’s probably been the longest day of your life.” The way she spoke killed any apprehensions I had about staying. She was soothing and calm and I couldn’t resist.

  “Depends on which me you ask. New me has lived through some things I can’t make myself think about.” The new me laughed like a crazy woman inside my head.

  Lydia took my hand without thinking, but as our skin made contact, I pulled it back quickly.

  “It’s okay.” Lydia laughed. “You can’t hurt me.” She took my hand again and stood up. Her skin was warm and fleshy. She led me upstairs to where the grandeur became overwhelming. The bathroom was fit for a princess, and my bedroom was massive with a huge four-poster bed and giant windows. Even with my good life in the desert I’d never had a room like this.

  The other part of me was casing the joint for stuff to steal.

  After the shower, I stood in my towel, studying my reflection in the mirror. Getting cleaned had taken considerably less time than I was accustomed to, what with not having two feet of thick hair.

  The girl in the mirror might as well have been an alien. Scars marred my once pretty face. I rubbed my hands over my bald head. Sadly, it was the least offensive thing about my appearance. Piercings and tattoos were livable and removable, but the unbelievable amount of scars was what scared me. Each one came with a flash of a memory I didn’t let myself see.

  Devastated and confused, I crumpled to the floor, hugging my knees into myself and sobbing.

  More than the clean feeling I’d never realized I enjoyed before or the unmarked skin, I wanted my hair back. It seemed shallow, but it was truly the only feature I had of my mother’s. I needed it like Samson had needed his.

  “I can make it come back.”

  I jumped, my eyes darting to the dark doorway leading into my dark bedroom. “What are you doing?” I sputtered, ashamed Lydia had seen me cry like a baby.

  “Your hair, I can bring it back, fast. Very fast.” She stayed calm and had a kindness in her tone.

  “Seriously?” The humility of being naked and crying was gone.

  “Yes.”

  I pulled the towel around me and stood on wobbly legs as if I were a newborn deer. “How?”

  “You’re not the only one with talents.” Lydia walked toward me. “Sit on the chair and close your eyes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ll never understand magic, Ari. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to understand for it to work. Now come and sit and let me fix this.”

  I eyed the chair next to the window, contemplating everything. I hated the untrusting person I had transformed into. Giving in to the desperation, I sauntered over and sat down, shivering from fear and the cool night air on my bare skin.

  But it wasn’t just the night air that made me shiver. Deep down, I was terrified. The new me trusted no one. I tried to think good thoughts about nice old ladies, but it was no use. Inside, I had shocking memories of nice old ladies.

  Lydia took several steps, making me uncomfortable, but I closed my eyes and held them shut.

  The warmth of the old lady’s hands brushed against my head, becoming tingly. My whole body warmed and relaxed as the sensation spread through me.

  Even with my eyes closed I could see the glow of whatever was happening through my eyelids. I wanted so badly to open my eyes, but I fought the urge, terrified of what I might see.

  “Why did you shave your head?” she asked softly.

  “I didn’t.” Tears rolled out of my pressed shut eyes. “I was in juvie. They shaved my head. It helped on the streets though. A lot of people don’t find a bald girl attractive.” My memories scared me.

  The heat stopped. “You’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Sleep tonight and we will start on solving your little problem tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I gulped as Lydia walked from the room as eerily as she had entered. “Thank you, Lydia.”

  “Your hair will begin to come back in tomorrow. Every morning when you wake, it will have grown a bit more while you slept. A few weeks and it should look like your mother’s again, love.”

  How had Lydia known what my mother’s hair looked like?

  Chapter 3

  Little bald boy blue?

  Ari

  I woke feeling rested in a way I had never before. I’d slept without dreaming, as far as I could tell. In daylight the grand room was more beautiful than I could have imagined. The walls were a pale blue and the furniture was dark walnut. The bedding and curtains were white eyelet lace. The dark hardwood floor glistened in the morning light. Everything was pristine and immaculate.

  A woman’s voice broke the silence, “Good morning, mister.”

  I glanced around, but no one was in the room.

  “I have laid out a change of clothes for you for this morning. It’s in the bathroom.”

  I closed my eyes, squeezing tight, and then opened them again to the beautiful room, still empty.

  “Who are you?” I finally asked into the air. The house was spooky.

  “Why, I am Annabelle—Mrs. Crane’s head staff. Your bathroom has fresh water for you to clean and ready yourself. Do you need assistance?”

  “I can’t see you.”

  A cool breeze filled the room.

  “Why, I be right here, mister.”

  “Where?” I squinted, jumping when I saw a young woman in a white dress. She was definitely a ghost. She was completely see-through.

  I screamed, clutching my bedding to my naked body.

  The girl screamed, matching in volume and length. I finished, still watching the girl, and screamed again. The girl again copied me.

  The bedroom door opened as Aimee came flying in. “Annabelle, stop screaming.”

  Annabelle stuttered, “W-well-well, he be screaming at me for no good reason and I am just tryin’ to help, ‘tis all.”

  “It’s fine.” Aimee laughed. “Ari, this is Annabelle. She died—well, a while ago. She was Lydia’s best friend at the time so she still works here.”

  “Nice—nice to meet you.” I didn’t know what else to say. The house was growing more and more unbelievable. Had I not made my uncle vanish and teleported myself to an alley, I
wouldn’t have believed the whole thing. But a ghost was the least crazy part of my current life problems.

  “Annabelle, this is Ari. She’s a girl and our new family member.”

  I cocked my head at the word “family.” Aimee’s face hadn’t changed at all when she said the word.

  “I be sorry, Miss Ari. I thought Lydia said ‘Harry’ and your head was all that was poking out, and it seemed to be a boy’s head, what with no hair on it. You got all that stuff in ya face—I couldn’t see ya as a girl.” She curtsied. “I’ll change the clothes to a dress.”

  “It’s fine.” I put a hand out of the covers, trying not to be completely offended. “No—thanks. Dude clothes are probably better at this point.”

  She gave a frightened look to Aimee who smiled. “Yeah, Annabelle tried the whole ancient-frilly-dress crap on me too.”

  “Ain’t no one asking your opinion, Miss Aimee.” Annabelle vanished, not with a poof, but was just gone in an instant.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yeah. Creepy well. It was weird. I didn’t dream. I always dream.”

  Aimee smiled. “No dreams at Lydia’s is a good thing. She probably helped you out with that.”

  “What is Lydia?”

  “Obviously she’s magic.” Aimee shrugged. “She’s a witch. What are you?”

  “I don’t know.” I tilted my head. “What are you?”

  “Death.” Aimee pressed her lips together.

  “Huh?”

  “Death, I—I am death. Grim reaper, death deity, angel of doom, death.”

  “How? What?”

  Aimee raised an eyebrow. “Never trust a demon. No matter what.” She strode out of the room, leaving me confused. I suspected it to be the theme of the next couple of days.

  When I finished getting dressed again, I left my room and walked along the hallway to the stairs. I stopped on a step, panicked by a voice. It was a man’s voice talking about me.

  “Lydia, I know you don’t want to hear it, but Ari’s trouble. I know who she is.”