The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  An urn sits on the mantel. I cross the floor quietly, wincing when I see his mom’s name. She died two years ago, hence the state of the house and yard.

  Poor Shane.

  No wonder he’s such a mess.

  Seeing the party prep in the kitchen, I can’t help but cringe at the lemons. He’s going to make lemonade again.

  Shane is having the party again.

  Shane is making lemonade again.

  Is everything the same?

  Not sure if it will be the same or not, I wink to the forest behind Mr. Mac’s. He’s on the back deck, talking loudly on a cell phone, arguing. I wink to the front door and open it. My stomach tenses.

  His shadow passes by the sliding glass door in the dining room and his voice booms. It’s weird to see him in the flesh, the man who stalked me and tried to kill me.

  I slip down the hall to the bedrooms, checking each one. They’re empty of chemicals and creepy pictures or poems. It’s a bachelor pad, decorated with lame books, crappy mismatched furniture, and a lot of shoes blocking the front door.

  When I get back into the hall to go downstairs, I realize he’s no longer speaking. I freeze and wait for him to make noise, but he doesn't.

  I slip into the bathroom, ignoring my rapidly beating heart, and peek out the window. He’s not on the back deck.

  My insides tighten more, joining the hairs on my arms in raising the alarms.

  The floor creaks in the kitchen. I hold my breath and squeeze behind the door in the hope that he doesn't see me.

  The floor creaks again, closer.

  I shudder from nerves as he draws near, his breath and the smell of him—maybe his evil—hit my nostrils.

  I don't know what I am anymore, if I kiss or pull or if I have to kill him with my bare hands.

  The floor creaks closer. I turn to the hinges of the door, jumping when I see his eye in the crack.

  “Alise?” He sounds confused, angry and confused.

  “Hi, Mr. Mac.” I stumble back, letting the door swing open wide.

  “Why are you in my house?” He enters the doorway, filling it up. He’s bigger this time, or maybe I’m just more afraid. He makes me feel so weak again. “And what did you do to your hair?” He wrinkles his nose, losing some of the anger. “Is this a prank?”

  “Yeah. I was dared to come in and—uhm, steal a—shirt.” I have nothing. It’s not my worst lie, but it might be my second worst.

  “Why?” He leans against the doorframe, losing all his anger and grinning at me. He makes my stomach twinge in all the bad ways. My tummy magic is going crazy.

  “One of my friends—dared me to.” I have nothing. It’s awful.

  “Did they really or did you want to come here on your own?” He steps closer. His creepy vibe is off the charts now. “Do you have a little crush?” He reaches for me, brushing my hair out of my face.

  I’m sure we can both hear my heart beating a mile a minute.

  “‘Cause I have a confession.” He lifts one eyebrow and leers with his skinny lips. “I have a little crush on you too.”

  “No.” I step back, hitting the wall.

  “I think there was no dare and you came here to spy on me. And that’s okay. I won’t tell anyone that you did. I don't have to call the cops. We can work something out.”

  I grab his face, planting the biggest kiss on his lips and sucking hard. His hands dig into my back and lower, lifting me by the butt into his grip. I try to pull with my hands but nothing happens. No sparks.

  I have no ability. I can’t kill him.

  Not like this anyway.

  He takes all my movements the wrong way, trying to push me down to the floor. I shove him back and wink us to the Nærøyfjord, to the peak I always stare at. His hands grab at mine, pinning them behind my back as he tries to lower me to the ground. He pauses when the fresh air hits us, lifting his gaze and letting go of me. “What the hell?”

  “Screw you.” I shove him hard.

  His eyes widen as his feet slip and he loses his balance. He windmills his arms as he fully loses his footing and falls back. His eyes stay on mine as he falls, screaming until I lose sight of him and the scream stops.

  I wink back to his house, breathless and still scared. I run down into the basement, horrified when I find everything.

  The chemicals, the pictures, the poems. They’re all here. Jaime, Giselle, and Alise remain his top targets, but he’s included others, girls I never knew well.

  Amongst the pictures he took while spying there are more, shots he could only have taken if the girl was drugged and in this basement. I turn to the right, seeing where the photos were taken and gag.

  Panicking, I wink back to my parents’ house. I accidentally go to the one they lived in before, in my world. I lift the phone and call the police.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  “I need the police at 473 Elm Street. I just woke up and someone has done something terrible to me. I was in the basement, tied up. Please hurry before he comes back.” I hang up the phone and hope that’s enough to get them there.

  I feel dirty and disgusting, wiping my mouth where I kissed him. I need another shower but this isn’t my house.

  I wink back to Shane’s and watch him from the woods as he fixes his truck.

  He still has that boy-next-door look to him. The one I once fell in love with.

  He seems kind of sad though. Obviously, his father’s absence and his mother’s death have hit him hard.

  I wonder if maybe the reason I’m here is to fix the things from the rift we all caused when we gave the magic back to the garden and reset everything.

  There can’t be any other reason. I can’t send people to Heaven, I just proved that.

  I don't have magical powers except winking and probably not aging. I focus and pop my wings out, tearing the shirt I’m wearing and hitting the desk behind me, knocking over some pictures. “Those are still there. That doesn't make sense.” I sigh.

  None of this makes much sense.

  Ari isn’t real. Luke, Ben, and Brandon Green aren’t either. Lorelei probably wasn't born. Ophelia definitely wasn't. Neither Tristan nor Phillip exists. All the angels are stars still, I imagine.

  Hanna hasn’t been born, and even if she was, I guarantee we still wouldn't get along.

  Aleks has been dead for hundreds of years. As have Gwen and Shulster.

  Lydia and Annabelle were probably not born, and if they were, they've been dead for ages. As has Marcus.

  But these guys are here and maybe they need some help.

  My eyes lower to the ring on my finger, the one that shouldn't exist but it does. I was once the hand of God, and maybe he still needs me.

  Shane is sad and lonely.

  Alise isn’t together with Blake.

  Giselle hasn't hooked up with Shane.

  Mr. Mac was up to his usual tricks.

  I might not have much of a future this way, in this world, but at least I can ensure they do.

  Chapter 15

  Match maker, match maker, make me a match . . .

  As the party starts and everyone enters Shane’s house, jovial and drinking, I wink to the police station. Everyone is still busy with Mr. Mac’s house and the one guard is pretty much taking a nap. The office is closed so no one is at the desks. I leave a note on the desk I once sat at, trying to pick out a photo of my attacker.

  “Be sure to ask Shane Bagley if he is interested in the police force. He’s a for sure candidate,” I mutter as I write. “Also ask Giselle Boulanger. They would both make excellent police officers and are the high school’s recommendation.”

  I stare at the note and nod, certain this is the right thing to do.

  Something about the way his desk is organized and the smell of his chair makes me recall a job I did with Ari. I furrow my brow and wink to the orphanage.

  The office I’m in makes my stomach tighten the way Mr. Mac’s house did. No one is at the desk, but it’s organized s
imilarly and smells familiar.

  There are crosses hung and shelves of books, different Bibles from over the ages.

  Hating the hollow sound of my feet on the floorboards as I creep to the door Ari once showed me, I mutter a small prayer as I turn the handle. I open it long enough to determine Father Michael is still in play. Sin is still a thing.

  I shudder and close the door, not sure how to do this. I don't have skills anymore. My eyes catch the letter opener on his desk and I nod to myself. I do have some skills.

  Sitting at his desk, I put my boots up and wait.

  It’s a while before footsteps come down the hall, stomping. “Excuse me, can I help you?” he snarls. The images he invokes in my mind make me sick, but I do my best to keep a straight face.

  “You can.” I stand and stroll to the door I shouldn’t know about. His eyes dart from me to it and back to me.

  “You can’t go in there. This is the lord’s house and no one may—”

  “Shut up.” I turn the handle and open the door, revealing the inner sanctum of a monster.

  “That door’s always kept locked, you’ve trespassed. I’m calling the authorities.” He grabs for the phone.

  “Good. You can tell them what you do to the little kids in this room.” I point at the door.

  “How dare you!” He stiffens his back. I wink behind him, grabbing the letter opener from the desk and stabbing it into his jugular.

  “God isn’t happy with how you’ve behaved. He sends his regards,” I whisper and walk over to the door to open it. Then I drag his body, making a large blood smear on the floor, and leave him in the entrance to the room he created.

  I wink away as he bleeds out on the floor.

  When I land in the backyard of the house I used to call home, I glance upward. “I hope that wasn't too much. Using your name and all.”

  He doesn't answer back so I decide to go inside.

  The lights are still off so I wink in and take another shower.

  The blood leaves my hands and pools around the drain, swirling and making designs. It almost seems normal to be washing blood off, like I’m me again.

  When I’m clean, I wink to Alise’s room, in my towel. I leave my dirty clothes on the floor and steal some new ones. Having a twin has its advantages. Having a messy twin is even better. She doesn’t even notice the dirty clothes I leave on the floor.

  I pull my hair into a bun and slip on a hoodie, pulling up the hood before I wink to Shane’s. I hide in the woods, watching the party.

  Blake is on the deck, staring out at the backyard. It’s dark but in the muted light I would know his posture anywhere. I can tell by the way he’s standing he’s upset or thinking or procrastinating something. I suspect I know what.

  I wink to a spot on the deck behind him and stroll over to lean against the railing. I don't glance over, I don't want the light to hit my face.

  “You’re Blake, right?” I ask, trying not to speak loud enough for him to recognize my voice.

  “Yeah, who are you?” He turns to me so I angle away a little.

  “One of Alise’s friends. I just wanted you to know she likes you. You should ask her out.” I turn and walk back to the house.

  “What? Is that you, Giselle?”

  I enter the house and slip into the crowd, keeping my head low and my eyes on the floor. I make my way to the stairs and climb them, sitting in the same spot I was the moment I died and watched Aleks save me.

  The house is loud. The music is pumping over the people and craziness of too many drunk teenagers.

  The sound is the same as last time.

  I can only take so much of it before I wink to Giselle’s bedroom. It’s disgusting. I need a shower just from walking in here. I take the creepy poems she has on the floor and stuff them in my pocket. They were right next to her grad dress. She didn't buy the same one as last time. That makes me smile. She has her own dress, not something I wore already. Something I nearly died in.

  A sound halts my snooping.

  I turn, hearing her parents fighting. Someone pounds the wall next to the room. I jump and wink to the door, peeking out the crack into the hall. Her dad has her mom against the wall and is shouting at her. She shoves him and storms to her room. I duck back inside as they pass. The sound of her slamming the door bursts through the house.

  Minutes later she throws the door open and leaves.

  He screams at her the entire way to the car. I watch out the window as he shouts at the car as she drives away.

  If this is how it was the last time, no wonder they never noticed Giselle was dying in the hospital.

  I wink home and lie back in the bed in the spare room, savoring the scent of my parents’ house. I want nothing like I do the ability to run upstairs and hug my mom and dad. Even if it’s just one more time.

  I fall asleep this way, with the door locked and lights off.

  The house is so large they don't come down here.

  They don't notice someone else living with them.

  My mom never comes downstairs, except to do yoga and my dad is always in his office working or in the field.

  In the morning when I wake up, I wink downtown to the pay phone by the pier and phone Giselle and Shane, using the numbers for them I stole from Alise.

  “Hello?” Giselle groans. She sounds hungover, but at least she isn’t dying from liver and kidney failure.

  “Hi, Giselle. This is one of the recruiters for the police force, and I was hoping to talk to you. We have been taking recommendations for the force from high schools.”

  “Police?” She sounds as uninterested as she can.

  “Yes.” I roll my eyes. “We’re hoping you would be interested. The schooling is available right after high school and a lot of kids find it intriguing to leave home and get into a working career straight away. It’s coed and we have a lot of attractive males, all of whom will have good jobs at the end of this training. And you will get far away from your crappy home town.” I sound like a pimp, but I know it’s the only thing she might go for, besides what I’m about to say. “And I was told you would look amazing in the uniform.” I hate myself.

  “Oh my God, you’re right. I would look amazing in it. I never thought about being a police officer before. Is there a chance I could work in the city?”

  “Yes, loads.” Everything I am saying is a lie. I have no clue about being a cop. I should have paid more attention when Shane was doing it. “Someone will be in contact with you. I hope this is something that interests you. It’s way better than going to school for like ever and having to live in dorms and be poor.” I smile at myself. “Bye now.” I hang up and phone Shane, blocking my number for him because he’s actually smart.

  “Hello?” He doesn't sound much better.

  “Hi. Mr. Bagley, please.”

  “This is him.” He yawns.

  “I’m a recruiter for the police force, and I was hoping you’d have a minute.”

  “Recruiter?” He sounds baffled.

  “Yes, we are just following up with some of the recommendations we received from high schools. We were hoping you would be interested in getting a great career right out of high school and leaving your small town behind. You in for some adventure?”

  “I don’t know, it’s like ten in the morning.”

  “Okay, well you think about that and we’ll be in touch. Bye now.” I hang up and hope that’s enough.

  Alise is going to a good school. Obviously, Blake is as well.

  Or is he?

  That worries me. His parents don't have the best house in town. Mine do. Or so it appears. I go back to my place and sneak into Alise’s room. She isn’t home, of course. She and Giselle probably slept at Giselle’s house. I look up Blake’s family on her computer, stunned to discover his parents have both died in a helicopter crash a year ago, leaving Blake behind.

  The article doesn't say anything else, but when I open the locator app in their chat on her iPad, his location isn’t far.


  I wink to the street where it is, scowling when I see the old shitty house.

  I wink to the side yard and peek in a window. The house is gross.

  There’s no way it’s his. I sneak along the back, peering in the windows.

  “You’re not her, but you look just like her.” His voice rings out from behind me.

  I pause, sighing and not sure how to fix this. My recklessness is left over from the days when vampires and Dorian would fix my mistakes.

  “I’m a cousin,” I lie, turning around.

  Blake looks different. He’s paler than normal and less confident. He’s less all-round. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see where the guy Alise likes lives.”

  “I asked her out last night. She told me she was really sorry, but she didn't feel the same. Thanks for that.” He cocks a dark eyebrow over his broken glasses.

  “Why do you live here?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?” I try to sound nice and not impatient like how I am.

  “My parents are dead.” He says it like I’m the idiot for not knowing that.”

  “I know. But why do you have to stay here?”

  “I have to live with the closest family relative until my eighteenth birthday. Why do you care?”

  “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “Why?” He sounds angry. I think he might be, maybe not at me but just life in general.

  “Because I knew them.” I regret that one.

  “From where?”

  “My parents.” This is getting bad.

  “Did you tell me Alise likes me as a prank? You think it's funny to prank losers?” He takes a step toward me.

  “No.” I hold my hands up. “I honestly thought she did. I know you like—” I pause. Shit.

  His eyes widen. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just thought I heard you liked her and assumed she felt the same.”