The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  He turns and dives back into the pool of water. I can’t even stop myself from smiling.

  I leave the soap on the shore and climb back in, finding it less shocking this time, and rinse. It takes several washes before I feel clean again.

  I swim out to where he is and wrap my legs around his waist. “You’re a weird guy.”

  He nods. “I know.” He flashes a grin. “It’s lucky I have a girl like you to help me work through it.”

  He kisses me and for ten seconds the world is perfect, his being kind of a jerk and all.

  The End

  Volume Nine

  Chapter 1

  Time

  Aimee

  The flash of light blinds me but it vanishes as quickly as it came. Lorelei winces in pain as she casts hellfire, bursting it from her again and sucking it back in.

  It illuminates the forest around us. Glaring heat and light begin and end abruptly.

  Gwen and Shulster share a simultaneous side-glance in my direction.

  I assume it’s a sign that this must end—they’re concerned but want me to be the bad guy. For some reason, I get stuck with this hat a lot. Waiting for a quiet second, I clear my throat, hoping to catch Lorelei’s attention. “Hey, uhm maybe we could take a break on the hellfire flashes?”

  “What?” she asks, without turning.

  “Maybe stop for a bit. You look exhausted.” I try to make it about my concern for her and not me telling her what to do. She technically has way more authority in Lorri’s posse than I do.

  “What?” she asks again, spinning. “What do you mean?”

  “The constant hellfire, it’s too much. Maybe take a break and get some rest.” I flash my eyes at Gwen for backup.

  “Yeah, Lorelei. You’ve been doing this all day, releasing it and sucking it in. It’s going to wear you out. And it’s creepy.”

  It’s something that can kill almost anyone, maybe not me, but the wounds would be devastatingly painful. Shulster and Gwen would for sure die. Badly.

  “You should eat,” I throw in for good measure.

  “I am hungry.” She rubs her belly, glaring at us. It isn’t anger or annoyance; I gather that by looking at her. It’s desperation. She’s reaching a frightening place with us all. We’ve been bad about helping. Lillith’s spell had us as useful as teats on a hog, as Lorelei so lovingly put it a few times. And now we’re all blundering about, watching an army in France that we can’t even begin to fight. Not because we can’t kill a bunch of vampires and succubi, but because Sam can kill all of us easier than we can him. “I just hate that Sam can cast magic and hellfire, and he’s one of y’all with the whole not dying thing. I don’t know how we’re gonna defeat him. I assume it’ll be hellfire. I wanna be ready.”

  “Yeah, but you also need to be rested and fed.” Gwen stands from the bench at the back of Shane’s yard. “Let’s go get something to snack on.”

  By snack she means blood. It still makes me wrinkle my nose to see them eat. Marcus especially. His dissatisfaction is noisy and pathetic. He used to be a strong man, and now he’s reduced to a whiny baby. He eats from a bag, equivalent to death in his eyes. Only it’s noisier for the rest of us. It involves a lot of moaning and complaining combined with deep sighs of unfulfilled hunger, something a bag cannot cure.

  “See ya inside.” Lorelei gives me a wave and stalks across the dry grass.

  Our bubble, the haven inside the area of land protected by the old shaman’s spell, isn’t like it was. It isn’t lush and strong. It’s weakened some as the balance on Earth is thrown off.

  Everything has weakened, except Sam.

  I watched him all morning, stunned by the strength and size of his army. As the world gets darker, Sam and his animals get stronger.

  We aren’t like that, especially the fae with us. Lorelei’s vampire ways are probably the only thing saving her from dying off.

  I wink to the other bubble she made, sighing when I see the house and enjoying the little bit of bliss Lorelei can create.

  I’m alone awhile, twisting grass and watching them moving around inside through the windows, before he shows up. Dorian’s eyes catch mine, sharing something, but I’m not sure what it is and then it’s gone.

  “Hi.”

  It could have been anything.

  Fear.

  Silent wishes.

  Regret.

  “Hey.”

  He stares again, still wrestling with something but not saying it.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask. Cutting to the chase has become a thing for us all. Not just because time has become unreliable, but also because there’s a chance we won’t remember to have the conversation we’re contemplating. We don't retain everything anymore. Too many conversations center on recalling what someone was about to say or needed to remember. I catch myself wondering what I was about to say.

  It takes him a second to answer, but when he does I understand everything. “After.”

  It’s the most important word we have. Uncertainty and a desperate lack of authority or guidelines have made the word “after” a bit of a fantasy for us all. Will there be an after? Will we be stuck here? Will we go to Heaven? Will we just cease to exist, no longer necessary? Will we have each other?

  It’s an odd spot to be, answerless and yet left with empty expectations. We were given a task, we were trained for this moment, but we were never actually given a full layout of what the real expectation was, or the aftereffect.

  After.

  Just save the world. Don’t worry about the after.

  “What do you want it to be?” We play this game a lot, he and I.

  “Well, love . . .” He pauses and grins. It starts out cheeky, suggesting he might offer up a fake answer, one I will blush at. But then his eyes get that same look, the one I’m doubtful I want the answer to. It’s there and gone in a flash, back to cheeky. “I imagine a soft bed and a small house and a lot of privacy.” He chuckles, not meeting my gaze as he renders the fake answer, “Plumbing. I want plumbing again. You’ve never really lived without it before so this is probably an inconvenience so far, but imagine it from my perspective. I’ve spent lifetimes without it already. I did my time. It’s just cruel to have to go back. I miss plumbing. Real plumbing, not Lorelei’s glamour either.”

  “I miss restaurants.” I’ll play this game until there’s nothing but us and a dusty field. I’ll force myself to remember what it once was to live and taste and experience all of life’s pleasures. How it felt to lavish ourselves in laziness and how we took life for granted. How we wasted all our chances at happiness.

  “Texting.” He flashes his eyes at me, purposely. “Sexting.”

  “Uhhhh, we never sexted, Dorian.” I cock an eyebrow, afraid to ask.

  “Right.” He chuckles. “But we might have.” He tries to recover. It’s a sad attempt. “Ice cream. I miss cold, smooth ice cream.” He smacks his lips and widens his eyes. “Wineries. One day you and I will be a pair of stars, watching down on this Earth rebuilding itself, and I will still miss the taste of good wine and hard cheese.”

  “You’re so weird.” I can’t help but laugh at him. I don't want to think about being trapped in the sky, forced to watch and not live. I don't have any desire to be a star. I’m unsure if that’s optional or just something that happens to things like us.

  “Weird is all we have left, love.”

  “Maybe, but if you could whisper one thing to God, and have him hear it and grant your wish, what would it be?” I have to ask. It’s a real, true question and not the game, but I need to know.

  “A do over. I would want a do over. A second chance at all this, maybe minus the Roses Academy and the missions and the magic and Adam and Lillith and all that nonsense. Just you, a girl, and me, a guy, and maybe if he’s feeling generous, it could be simple and easy this time. Start as something small, like a crush or an accidental meeting.”

  “I like accidental meeting.” I want to play this game too. I like t
his game, even though we’ve never played it before.

  “Yes, perhaps I could have saved you in a regular human way. Not angelic, just manly.” His accent makes the word “manly” sound soft, but I like it.

  “And then we could go for a milkshake, and you would make fun of me for being a vegetarian until I forced you to tell me about your dark past, doing reckless human things.” I chuckle.

  “No. I wouldn't have a dark past. I would have conflicts that were so easily solved if just expressed, but I wouldn't express them. I would bottle them up like a regular boy, and you would have to guess at them and love the complexity of my mysteriousness.”

  “Obviously, it would make your strong silence seem attributed to horrors lurking in the shadows.”

  “Yes.” It’s his turn to laugh. “Awful parents and maybe a substance-abuse problem in the family. Something huge to humans that feels like a weight crushing them into the ground.”

  “Right, not a real problem in comparison to the end of the world and the antichrist.”

  “No.” He sighs wearily. “No antichrist. Just a dad who drinks too much and maybe a little sister who died in his care, and I have lingering guilt over the fact that I, a seven-year-old boy never saved her.” He rolls his eyes.

  “That’s a pretty big tragedy.” He clearly doesn’t understand what he is mocking, never having been human.

  “I saw that one once. Tragic situation. The boy wasted a whole life because a selfish man let a small kid die.”

  “That can be scarring. Look at Shane.” I raise my eyebrows. “His family is—” I pause, losing the humor. “Was, was a mess. Tragic. He had all kinds of drama. The life where my mom died, I did too.”

  “I know. I watched you.” His lip twitches into something of a smile. It’s distant, not a smile for this moment, one for a lifetime ago. In a different world where we were happy and life was much less insane. “In all honesty, if I could just be a simple boy with a simple life ahead of me, it would be enough. Just you and me.” He sighs. “I love you, Aimee.” His words become a hoarse whisper, “And if this is all we get, before we die, then it will be enough.”

  “Me too.” Tears threaten me but I hold them back.

  “What of them?” He clears his throat and glances at the house we’re watching, always watching, changing the subject to my family, “They can’t stay forever.”

  “I know. Just a little longer, I think.”

  “You going to see them?” he asks.

  “Yeah. I should. Before I can’t anymore.”

  “Okay.” He leans in, brushing his soft lips against mine. “Then I’ll see you at Shane’s.” He kisses a second time. I close my eyes and linger there, smelling the rich air he creates. He’s one of a kind. The air changes and he’s gone. I’m alone again, watching the house.

  I’ve spent too much time watching my family in this last season. The last season of us. Of humanity. Of life. Not life on Earth, just human life. We’re dying off. We’re becoming extinct. Something we’ve done to ourselves, unfortunately, starting with Lillith and her need for power.

  The world is on fire.

  It’s killing everyone with this last season. A never-ending season of drought and fire. Or rather seven years of burning. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but I doubt it’s seven years. The mess in this short amount of time makes me think nothing would last the seven years. There are a few people left, even now.

  We kill anyone the fire misses. They’re suffering and starving and being eaten by the monsters lurking in the shadows.

  The monsters we don’t bother to kill anymore. There’s no point. They breed like rabbits, reproducing with a bite or a spell.

  No one will survive this. No one.

  The world might live on once humanity is gone, but we must be removed first, starting with Lillith.

  After that, it might fix itself, repairing the damage done by sin and civilization.

  One season.

  That's what we have left.

  I've lost track of the number of years I've been alive—we relived so many of them. But in the limited time I have spent on this planet, I have never paid as much attention to a season as this. I've never known a season to last this long. It’s been months, too many months, of fire and heat and dust.

  I don't know when the end of the world started. Time, that tricky mistress, has wrapped us in her finger, claiming us as hers. She has lured with delights and distractions, working with Lillith against us. I measure against Ari’s swelling belly, although I suspect she has been pregnant far longer than the usual nine months, and I’m not sure she’s near ready to have the baby.

  All I know now is that the end is near.

  The signs have come and started.

  The antichrist has been named.

  The warfare has happened.

  The famine has long passed.

  The demonic army is ready for battle, almost like a scene from The Lord of the Rings. A river of beasts, villains, and hate. They stretch as far as the eye can see, all bent on destroying the last of us so they may live out their centuries in the mess they've made. They’re like a dragon who burns everything to live in the ashes.

  Yes, the world is on fire.

  A fire started with sin.

  A fire we became part of, the moment Lorri took what remained of our humanity.

  Sitting across the meadow from the house, I watch the people inside when I can. It isn’t something relaxing or peaceful. It’s stressful. I panic a little more each day as I realize there is nowhere for them to go. There is no life left to live. There is this bubble and that is all. Dorian’s right, they can’t live here forever.

  They’re going to die, even though everything I have done from the very beginning has been to keep them alive. And now, even worse, there’s a baby. A niece. A child I wanted to believe was a savior. I saw it in Blake’s eyes once too, a glimmer of hope that a Christmas baby might mean something.

  And Terra is a stunning baby who has stolen what’s left of my heart. I too thought for a moment that maybe she was a miracle, a Jesus baby. A child who would save us from what we have done to this planet. But she’s not. She’s a regular Nephilim, as regular as they can be.

  The idea that there might be a savior has faded with the masses who have died.

  Lillith’s evil has tipped the balance. She has taken the beautiful and turned it into horror. She’s won. She has made her hell on Earth and ruined God’s work.

  Our job is to wipe her and her minions clean, leaving this place as if we were never here. The job sounds easier than it is. Lillith has cheated, taking Sam and making him evil.

  We are all there is. A last stand, a meager group of redeemers—angels to fight the fire. We aren’t supposed to save the people, just the planet. This was never a rescue mission. It was always a salvage.

  We just didn't know that, not for certain.

  I’m unsure how to feel about it now that I’ve realized what our purpose is. I’m conflicted. I want my family to be safe and happy and alive, but not here. There’s nothing left to live for. And I’m becoming something that doesn't fit with them anymore. I’m lost sometimes, detached and distracted. I sort of understand how Dorian and Lorri lived hundreds of lifetimes without getting bored. It blended. It blends now. The time is fluid and you can’t pin down the moments. It would pass quickly. But the idea of so much time is daunting.

  I measure against the Earth, the changes that have happened. Time has passed because there is nothing left. It takes time to ruin a whole world. I don’t know how much time. Not that it matters anymore.

  And all I have left is sitting in the house, across the meadow, eating whatever Blake and I have managed to scavenge for them or whatever they have grown. They’re not oblivious to the state of things, but they are hiding. Surviving in this bubble Lorelei made.

  Being here makes all our losses worse. Seeing what’s left of our family makes me miss everyone else. I say their names like I used to say Dorian’s. Soft
whispers I hope ride the winds to Heaven and are received.

  Lydia.

  Annabelle.

  Lorri.

  Aleksander.

  Hanna.

  Sam.

  Brandon.

  Landry.

  Everyone.

  Sam.

  There are too many now. The list is long.

  And without them it feels like we are too few.

  We are.

  The world is on fire and we don't have enough of us to stamp it out.

  But we don't have to stamp out the fire, just cut the head off the snake. We must end the evil and send the last of the humans to their maker.

  I pick a dry piece of grass and twist it in my fingers, almost laughing at myself.

  When this started, I was scared we wouldn't have enough time or manpower to fix everything.

  Now I’m scared that time is all we will have. We’ll remain, stuck on Earth and forced to endure the never-ending time, watching days and years become one.

  Being alone here, just us redeemers—I’m scared of that, although I have Dorian. Maybe a lifetime of Dorian.

  All the humans will move on, the humans and Sam.

  Everyone will escape this hell, even Lillith, the one who made it.

  But whoever lives through the last battle will remain, alone and surrounded by filth.

  Ash.

  Debris.

  The dragons left to roll around in the ashes.

  Maybe we will be here long enough to watch the wind blow it away, erasing mankind and all its stuff.

  Long enough to watch the forests reclaim the world and the oceans replenish themselves once they’re rid of the garbage.

  Long enough that one day we might see people walk the Earth again.

  I don't relish the thought of this.

  Even if I have Dorian, it’s not a fate I want. I want his do over. I want to try again, try to be normal. I want plumbing. I want the world to be the way it was, only better.

  “Are you doing the whole bleak outlook thing again?” A familiar voice breaks my hopelessness.